A Brother or Son
by Universe Creator
Summary: Arthur made a mistake, but Uther shares the blame. A child, the son Arthur wanted but never got the chance to raise, ripped away from him because his father wished it. Gaius didn't have the heart to kill the babe, bringing him to his sister and her son to keep safe. Will Arthur remember his child when he returns to Camelot almost eight years later? Choices do change destiny.
1. The Child of Destiny

Disclaimer: I do not own Merlin or the Arthurian legends, but I do own an OC in this story and the story itself.

Please leave a review.

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><p>"You are throwing your life away, Arthur! How could you be so STUPID to do these kinds of things?! You are a prince and expected to act like one, and not even close to being a true man! How do you expect to raise a child when you are still one yourself? And a lowly serving girl's bastard at that?! You bring shame upon me, Arthur! I expected so much more from you! But this…!"<p>

Arthur Pendragon ignored his father's stark-raving rant as he sat before him, eyes focused empty and dreadful on the crib a few feet to his left, where his newborn son lay sleeping, born just that evening and his mother already being prepared for exile come dawn's breaking.

"He is my son, Father. An accident and bastard he may be, but he is still my responsibility. Besides," Arthur turns a hard gaze to his father, standing from his chair straight and confident despite being head and shoulders shorter than the king. "If we are truly laying blame, who is the one that insisted I partake of drink during my birthday celebration?"

Uther glares, cold and murderous. "You are a legal adult according to Camelot's laws; it was necessary, and I did not think you would become so inebriated so as to romp that—"

"Enough! I stand by my decision, and that is final. You've said your piece. If you wish to pretend he does not exist, then so be it, but you will have no contact with him from this point onward if that is how you feel."

"I had no such intentions, of that I can assure you. Know that you are making the biggest mistake of your life, Arthur." With that, Uther storms from the room, leaving Arthur and his son alone.

Arthur expels a long, deep sigh, turning to loom over the crib, his hands on the railing, and stare at the tiny figure within that still lie sleeping through the loud argument. His son. Arthur had never meant for it to happen. No one had. His father talked him into one drink, but through the night of his thirteenth birthday one had turned into two and then three seemingly by thin air. The next thing the young prince knew, he had awoken with a splitting headache and a naked girl in his bed.

He still remembered her, even though Uther forbade any form of contact between them after they were found, even after she fell pregnant and was admitted as a reluctantly boarder of the castle. He'd seen her only that night and this one, after he was allowed in her room upon the birth of their child, and she was too terrified and too tired to do more then look at him, not even allowed a moment of holding the baby she'd borne. Still, Arthur remembered her.

He remembered the pale-white blonde of her hair, falling in a wave of tight, perfect curls down her back. He remembered her smooth, fair skin and delicate, heart-shaped face. His son had her hair, not just from its color of something which whiter than snow that may eventually grow darker—but never golden like Arthur's own has and always will be. No, it's also so in the way it lays in rolling waves on his head, neither neatly straight nor a nest of tight and fat curls, though it is still short and close to his head. He also has her dark-brown eyes, such a drastic contrast to his and his father's pale skin that they seem black in comparison, and her small, straight nose.

Everything else besides those, the child has taken after his father: the shape of his face, ears, and lips, and his jaw-line and the creases around his lips when in either a frown or smile especially. Arthur is glad for these things, but he also appreciates the differences in him and his son that separate them.

Carefully, hesitantly, the prince reaches into the crib to pick up his son, hopping to attempt to emulate how he'd seen the midwives and one of the maids holding him, with one hand cradling his tiny head and the other underneath the area he hopes is the child's rear.

"Please don't break. Please don't break. Please don't break." Arthur whispers as he mechanically lifts the child inch by inch out of the safety of the crib. When the boy is held levelly in front of him, the prince draws him in closer, so he's near but not against his chest, hands not moving and unsure what to do next. "Um…okay…so…I'll just, uh, move my arm to…uh…"

It's then that Arthur's chamber doors re-open, the prince freezing stock-still so as to avoid dropping or jumping with the baby so precarious in his hold. Very slowly, Arthur turns to face the door and finds the elderly court-physician standing in the doorway, mouth open to call out to him.

"Gaius…what do I do?" Arthur asks helplessly, gesturing with his eyes to the innocent.

Gaius simply quirks an eyebrow, his lips twitching briefly as he briskly marches into the younger Pendragon's room. "What are you doing, my lord?"

"I, uh, wanted…to hold him, but I…I'm…stuck."

Now, Gaius allows an actual, if small, smile. "An easy problem to remedy, I assure you, my liege. First, allow me to provide a visual demonstration." The elderly physician holds out his arms for the boy.

Arthur carefully hands the boy over, paying very close attention to how Gaius cradles the child, supporting his neck and bottom. Gaius then goes over different ways of holding him, and demonstrates each one.

"Now, Sire, I want you to try the cradle-hold first."

Arthur takes the boy with trembling arms, carefully positioning himself so he holds the little body just as he had seen Gaius do. He stares down into his son's eyes with a disbelieving, happy smile. "I'm…actually doing it…I-I did it, I mean."

"Yes, young prince," A hand clamps firmly to Arthur's shoulder, his head suddenly beginning to feel dizzy at the touch. "You did."

As the prince is swallowed by darkness, the last thing he feels is his son being swiftly ripped from his limp arms.

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><p>Cautious and with heart hammering in his tiny chest, Merlin pressed himself as closely to the wall as he could, straining to hear the hushed conversation of his mother and the old man in the next room, though he could see their shadows dancing on the far wall, cast by the hearth's crackling fire.<p>

"…Could not leave him…innocent…no magic…needs a family." The man said. Why must they speak so softly? Merlin wondered.

His mother sounds shocked. "…Truly the prince's…so young? …His name, Gaius?"

"He does not have one…mother banished and…father…mentioned."

"Lillian is heavily baring…love to…twins."

"That is splendid. Thank you, Hunith." The man sounded grateful, his shadow engulfed his mother's briefly before handing her something…round.

"No need…Merlin will love him…" The eavesdropping boy's eyes widened at his name's mention. He would love who?

Before long, the door to their small house opened and closed as he heard heavy footsteps fade. Young Merlin quickly scrambled to dash out of the kitchen as he hears his mother's much lighter footsteps begin to move in his direction.

"Merlin, come here, love. I have someone who wants to meet you." His mother called, catching him only halfway out of the kitchen as she stood in the open doorway with a knowing but soft smile on her face.

The boy of ten sighed, his shoulders drooping in defeat, and trudged slowly over to his mother. She carefully knelt in front of him, shifting the now-noticed bundle of blankets in her arms once his eyes asked the unspoken question of his young but bright and curious mind.

"Merlin, I want you to meet your new brother."

Merlin's eyes felt ready to burst with their sudden berth in his sockets, his voice filled with awe at the tiny face revealed to him. "Brother, Mommy? He's…so little…"

"Yes, he is, and that is why you must always be very careful with him. However, you are old enough now, so I trust you to hold him. Would you like to?"

The dark-haired boy's eyes shone with excitement as a horse-like grin split his face. He nodded, like every child when assuring their parent. Hunith showed him how to properly situate his arms before gently depositing the bundle.

The baby fit in his hold as though he has always belonged there, and Merlin's bright, blue eyes glow with seriousness and wonder as he takes in every detail of the little one's sleeping face. His crop of wavy, pale-blonde hair, his powdery-white skin, small and straight nose, full and pouting lips, deep laugh-line creases, the chub of his cheeks and chin, and his little ears. He was perfect. His new brother was absolutely perfect. Except…there was something missing…

"Mommy, what's his name?"

Hunith's face scrunched as though she was unsure herself, studying the boy just as her son had done before a soft smile once more tenderly played on her lips. "His name is Galahad, Merlin. Do you know what that means?"

"No," The ten-year-old shook his head to emphasize his answer.

"It means that he is pure…" Hunith's face suddenly became solemn as she looked into her son's eyes, and a long moment of silence passed for the young warlock before she spoke again. "You may not understand now Merlin, but just as you are special, just as everyone is in his or her own way, pureness is a very special thing in this world. You must promise me that you will protect him as well as yourself, Merlin. Can you do that?"

The boy nodded, thinking of his still-strange gift. "Yes Mommy…Is he…is he like me?"

Hunith shook her head. "I don't think so, baby, but that doesn't make you or him any different from each other, understand?"

"Yes…Mommy?"

"What?"

"Do I have to hide from Gal…Gal-la-had?"

"No, baby, not like others; unlike them, he will accept you, just like I do."

"Accept me." Merlin echoed as he felt horse-like grin returning. He nodded to himself. "Then I love him, just like I love you."

His mother smiled as she wrapped him and his brother in a hug in one fell swoop. "I knew you would."

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><p>AN: Okay, so this story originally started out as just a Father!Arthur fiction, where an adolescent prince must raise his son while still dealing with his daily duties and life, plus the added scorn of his father for wanting to keep his child, even though he's born both a bastard and the son of a servant (not Gwen, sorry).

Then, I read these two fics; one, a one-shot where Morgana and Arthur are Mordred's parents, has Gaius giving the baby Mordred to the druids and he comes to Camelot in cannon, meeting his parents—who were brainwashed to forget his birth but automatically feel that parental-bond with him. The second one I read was where Mordred was Merlin's adopted-brother who comes to Camelot with Hunith when Ealdor is ransacked.

So, I got to thinking…what if these things happened together, but the baby wasn't Mordred? Why not Mordred? A. I don't approve of incest. B. I wanted to name the baby something else, and I'm pretty sure I would have gotten a lot of crap for changing Mordred's name.

Now, why I named him Galahad is actually for a couple of reasons, one of which I won't tell you due to spoilers. First off, I realized that there are only 6 (7 counting Mordred) Knights of the Round Table instead of 12. I thought, hey, why not use that? Second, Galahad is the name of Lancelot's illegitimate son by a princess in the Arthurian legend, which, both here and there, Lancelot is a peasant-turned knight, so I used the class thing, but switched the parents' places. Third, Galahad does mean pure, and I thought that, given how people back then viewed an illegitimate child, it'd be really hard for them to be 'pure', even if he is at heart.

I hope that explained anything people may have been wondering about, and I should warn you now, updates will NOT be very regular, but I'll try not to have TOO big a gap between them.

Let me know if you guys have any questions, okay? I'll answer them as best I can.


	2. Challenges & Secrets

Disclaimer: Merlin isn't mine, nor do I make any money off of it.

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><p>Merlin watched as his little brother ran ahead of him, laughing, and with a huge smile on his face as he jumped over rocks and balanced across logs with his arms outstretched at his sides. He did it all with ease, restlessness in his normally fluid, lax movements, as if he couldn't perform the leaps fast enough to bring him closer to his destination. The elder rolled his eyes as his brother began skipping and dancing in twirls upon the soft bed of grass that was making up the forest floor.<p>

"Come off it, Gal!" He called, though there was a small, lopsided grin on his face. "Skipping and jumping isn't going to get you there any faster than walking."

The boy of seven apparently didn't hear him, opting to jump and swing upon a low-hanging branch like your regular monkey, his legs pumping as one to swing him faster, his shoulder-length, pale-blonde waves trailing him like a cape before he lets go and lands in a perfectly executed tuck and roll.

"Merlin! Merlin, look! We're here!" Galahad cried in joy as he stretched his arms to the sky and jumped up and down in pure excitement.

"Yeah, Yeah…" Merlin once again rolled his eyes, taking his time coming up the hill, only to stop and grin plain goofy at the castle-town below. "We're here." He finishes in a whisper.

"Hahaha! Come on, Mer! Come on, come on! Come _on_! Let's GO~!" Galahad took off like a bullet down the hill before even the first three words were fully out of his mouth, leaving his brother sputtering after him in the dust.

"Galahad! Galahad, slow down! Wait! Wait, you clotpole!" Merlin called as he stumbled down the hill, most of the way on his face and knees from clumsy, hurried steps. "Galahad!"

"This place is incredible…!" The young boy was already observing the town's streets past the gate before his brother managed to even make it to the entrance. "Isn't it Mer—what happened to you? You're covered in grass stains!"

"Yeah…I wonder why." Merlin gives what could not even come close to a devious grin, quickly melting into a frowning glare when his brother double's over trying to conceal his laughter. "Come on, clotpole."

The laughing abruptly dies in favor of sputtering as he is grabbed by the elbow and dragged from behind. "Hey, hey, slow down! We _just got here_! I wanna look 'round n' maybe get something for Mum as a present! Bubby, come on~!"

"We need to find Gaius and get settled in first, Galahad, and _then _we can look around, okay?"

"Bubby!"

"Don't 'Bubby' me, we—!"

"No, _Mer_lin, look at that!"

"What—is…this?" Indeed, it was a sight to behold; at least a hundred people surrounding the front of the castle, outlining its walkway.

"Why are all of these good folk hanging 'round the castle?"

"I dunno…but they're blocking the entrance, so I suppose we have to wait for them to disperse so we can go in and find Uncle. Come on."

Merlin dragged them to a spot in the relative middle of the crowd, catching a glimpse of a man and some soldiers proceeding down the walkway to a platform near them. The man looked rather plain, but frightened.

"Merlin, I can't see. Give me a boost, please."

"Hold on, Gal…I think—"

"Let this serve as a lesson to all." Boomed a deep voice, causing everyone too look up and see the king on the balcony above looking across the sea of faces gathered. "This man, Thomas James Collins is adjudged guilty of conspiring to use magic. As such I, Uther Pendragon, according to—"

Merlin's eyes widen, his hands flying from his backpack's straps to cover his brother's ears. His mother had told him of the laws of Camelot, but Galahad was too young and—his mother thought—completely safe from such things because he didn't have the same gift Merlin did. Well, she was at least right on one account, and he was determined to protect his brother's purity, just as he had promised that night he came to them. It wasn't until a few years later, when he was told Camelot's laws, that Merlin learned the whole truth as well.

His brother was the grandson of the man about to order someone dead from his safe perch above them. The man that brought Galahad to them as a babe had been his mother's brother and his maternal-uncle, who they—Merlin and, secretly, Galahad—were now here to study under, Merlin for control of his growing powers.

As his brother cranes his neck up to look at him, Merlin sees confusion, slight anger, and that hidden slip of fear in those deep, brown eyes. He knows Merlin never does things without reason, good or not. Merlin just stares back, trying to convey with his own eyes that it's okay.

'_Cursing,'_ He mouthed the word, causing Galahad's face to melt into sour disgust and disapproval. Merlin gives a small smile to hide the very slight sting of guilt in his heart for lying to his baby brother, but it is quickly flushed out with the relief that—

The axe comes down. Merlin goes pale as he feels bile rising up in his throat and ice flood his veins, wincing.

_Don't look down. Don't look at him. Don't do it. Don't let him see how bad you know it looks. _Merlin chants in his mind as he feels his brother stiffen in fear at his own reaction to something the younger boy had not seen.

Merlin watches in sympathy and apprehension as the haggard mother of the unfortunate victim steps forward, cursing Uther…and then, "An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth…a _son _for a son."

_A son…Uther's son…Galahad. _Merlin wonders for the millionth time in so many years how Galahad would react if he ever knew the truth of his blood, how he would interact with his father if he knew and if he didn't know. For the hundredth time today alone, Merlin feels the fear that they will run into the one they call Prince Arthur, and his world will come undone with one simple question, one memory.

Merlin wastes no time in scooping up his brother holding him tightly as he all but runs through the slowly dispersing crowd to the castle, once safely inside, out of the sun and out of the sight of that…show, Merlin skids to a stop in front of a couple of guards.

"Excuse me, uh, where can we find Gaius?" The guards point in the direction and he nods to them, speed-walking and rubbing his brother's back as he shrinks further into him, burying his face in Merlin's neck.

"What happened, Bubby? What's wrong?" Galahad whispers, his own voice quavering with the fear tingeing his words.

Merlin swallows as he puts his brother down, both of them only halfway up the stairway the guards had pointed him to. "Something that shouldn't have, Gal. It just startled me, okay? Don't worry."

The boy nods quickly, his eyes asking a question that both of them don't want the answer to, and extends one of his hands. Merlin forces a smile and takes his hand, letting Galahad lead the rest of the way up the stairs, since they're too narrow for two at a time and he's ahead. They enter a small quarters with lots of books, looking around.

"Uncle Gaius, are you here?" Galahad calls out. The answer is the sound of breaking wood from above and a falling shout. Before either boy has time to gasp, a bed near them flies across the room, stopping the old man's possibly fatal fall as he lands, covered in pieces of a broken railing. "Uncle, are you okay?!"

The Old man groans as he pushes himself to his feet and off the bed. "Fine child, fine. What in the devil just happened, that is what I'd like to know!"

"I…That just…" Merlin begins to sputter as Gaius looks accusingly at them both.

"Merlin saved your life. He was born like that. Isn't it incredible?" Galahad pipes up, his face lit with a wondrous smile.

Gaius goes red in the face, glaring at the younger boy and causing that smile to fall. "Incredible?! Boy, if anybody saw that…W-Where did you learn to do that?!" He looks back to Merlin, who's still in a daze.

"I…didn't…He's right, I was born like this." Merlin says in the rush of a long sigh, looking from Gaius to the bed.

"Impossible! …Who are you two?" He asks after realization strikes him, only to look at Galahad, truly look at him, and freeze, eyes wide. "You're…A—Hunith's boys…aren't you?"

"Ah," Merlin relaxes, reminding himself that Gaius caught his near-mistake, and nods with a relieved grin. "Yes, we are…I, uh, I have this…letter…I'm, uh, Merlin and this is Galahad." He says while digging in the front of his pack to produce a folded up piece of parchment.

Gaius' eyes are still staring fixedly on his brother. "Galahad…you've grown, boy."

The boy smiles shyly, fidgeting under the old man's gaze while his ears redden. "Yeah…Yeah, Mum told me you were there when I was born. I probably look a lot different now, huh?"

Gaius nods after a moment, looking up and meeting Merlin's eyes with a question before Merlin just exaggerates the parchment in hand and prompts the physician to take it. "You weren't due here until Wednesday…"

"Uh, it…is Wednesday, Uncle…" Merlin answers."

Gaius simply turns his back and orders them to put their things away, waving them off in the general direction of a room. Merlin sighs, Galahad shakes his head, but both move to do as asked, both having the same exact thought of defeat.

_Things do not look promising._

Their room was small, a simple space with a single cot, a single, squatting window, and a stand with a wash basin in the corner. It was obviously meant for one person, not two brothers.

"I'll take the floor." Galahad says, reading his brother's mind and putting his pack in the corner by the basin's stand.

"What? No."

"I'm younger and smaller. It won't hurt me, nor will it make getting out of the room a nightmare when I have to go to the privy at night, since I won't take up the whole floor, unlike you."

"Galahad, I can't let you sleep on the floor."

"Too bad I am." Unfortunately for the senior warlock, the younger had long since stopped being intimidated by his 'Big Brother' voice.

"No, Galahad."

"It's bad for your back and it'll make the nights difficult for my bladder. This is the best solution."

Merlin grimaced. His brother could be stubborn when he got something in his head, but only if it was for good reason, and that usually what meant what was best for his big brother instead of himself. "What if you get sick?"

"I'm sure Uncle has extra blankets. Besides that, when was the last time I fell ill, Bubby?"

Merlin glared, Galahad smirked. A standoff. Sibling rivalry. Merlin sighed. "How about we—"

"Taking turns would only make the same problems happen less, not fix them. Just deal with the fact I will be sleeping on the floor, because you aren't changing my mind, Mer."

"…Fine, stupid clotpole."

_I wonder if he got that stubbornness from his father. _Merlin thinks, tossing his pack on the bed.

He often wondered if many of Galahad's traits came from his father, like his obsession with being fair and equal, or his sometimes annoying nerves of steel, and especially his odd hang-up on self-sacrifice, particular when it came to Merlin himself and their mother. Regardless where they came from, where _he _came from, Galahad was his little brother, absolutely perfect, even if he had flaws.

_No stupid prince is going to change that. _At least, that's what he'd told himself, for going on five years now, and he was determined to believe it with all of his heart, always.

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><p>He'd broken his promise.<p>

That was the first thing that came to his mind as soon as his brother's scream rang throughout the courtyard, the first thing that he couldn't believe, even as he saw his brother crumple on the ground in front of the disbelieving servant, the throwing knife imbedded nearly hilt-deep in his left shoulder.

Merlin's eyes locked on the culprit, his body already moving on its own accord. The only reason the punch landed was because that goddamn jackass, who couldn't have half a brain to stop from throwing even as his brother was clearly running in front of him, was still gaping at the sight before him.

If Merlin weren't seeing red, he would have seen the pain and shock on his target's face, but he was. He was seeing red like the blood that was staining his brother's arm, dripping onto the ground as he futilely tried pressing his hand around the blade to stop some of the bleeding, screaming for Merlin to help and that it hurt. As it was, the blonde ass was on his ass with the most delicious look of shock, his jaw already reddening.

"You stupid ass! What in the bloody hell is wrong with you?!" Merlin screamed at the top of his lungs, his breathing ragged and his spirit and temper fiery, even as the two closest men grabbed and tried to shove Merlin on his knees, even as the blonde recovered quickly, anger in his own eyes.

"Maybe that stupid kid shouldn't have run right in front of the target! It's his bloody fault! Who're you to punch me for something that wasn't my fault?! Do you want to learn how to walk on your knees, you idiot?!" The blonde shouted.

"He's my brother, and he was defending the man you were bullying! Who are you to throw knives at people, the king?!"

"Well, now, idiocy must run in the family." The blonde sneers. "I'm Arthur, _Prince _Arthur."

Merlin's heart stops beating, his mind coming to a grinding halt. Prince Arthur. His worst fear for the past five years was staring him in the face, and worse, his brother was hurt because of it. His worst nightmare possible, come to life.

"I'll tell you what, since you were only defending your brother, here's what I'll do." Arthur continues, doing the one thing Merlin could possibly wish never to ever happen. Still, he can only pray with what is left of his breaking heart that the prince won't recognize him, after all, he'd seen him only once. Surely, he wouldn't remember Galahad's face.

His heart is pierced by another scream of pain as the blonde rips the knife out of his brother's shoulder pinning him down by his good arm to keep him still. Just as quickly as that is done, Arthur is on his feet with the boy cradled in his arms, the child's head purposely pressed to his chest to muffle his screaming sobs, the knife held loosely in Arthur's hand.

"I'll take the young lad to Gaius, so he can fix him up. Meanwhile, you can get nice and chummy with the walls of your jail cell for being insubordinate. I'll even let your brother keep the knife, as a reminder not to run in front of a target range." Arthur flashes a positively prat-like smile, walking away even as Merlin is hauled to his feet, screaming threats at him and only adding to his sentence.

Arthur snorts, this bloke obviously didn't know the meaning of accident. The young prince looked down at the child cradled against his chest, a feeling of nostalgia tugging on his chest at the weight in his arms causing him to frown in confusion. Arthur didn't like children; they were messy, ignorant, loud, and generally obnoxious, and he made a point trying to avoid the noble's children, who were especially bratty. This one here was just plain stupid.

"I've never even held a child before…" He muttered to himself. "Do I know you? Not likely, considering you're such a runt, but…"

"Mer…I…wan'…Mommy…"

Arthur's brow furrowed further, the boy was obviously half-conscious, and a lump of guilt twisted in his gut, seeing the red smearing his chainmail, but that one word stuck in his brain.

_Mommy…_

Arthur shook his head, pushing the thought of…jealousy that struck him. He had never known his mother, yes, but he'd long since given up envying those who had both parents, it was beneath him. He quickly finished delivering the boy to Gaius and explaining to the court physician what happened, depositing the knife on the spare space of a cluttered table. As he turned to go, he cast one last look at the boy as Gaius began treating his shoulder. His eyes were dull, glassy with sleepiness, and wide. Those dark, dark-brown eyes were full of fear in that one glance, almost begging him to stay.

_Don't go. I need you right now. _They said.

One word came to Arthur's mind as those eyes sent a shiver up his spine.

_Daddy…_

The door closed with a sharp bang that rattled the frame.

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><p>"So, are you enjoying your hand-tossed lunch, Merlin?"<p>

"Gal—Ow!" An under-ripe tomato nails him in the temple. "Urrgh, how's your shoulder? That knife went in pretty deep, didn't it?"

Galahad shrugs his good shoulder, his head cocked to the side. "It only went in an inch or two, and Uncle says just a few weeks rest will do it right fine."

"A couple inches, no th—ah! No, that can't be ri-right! I s—Ow! I saw it buried to the hilt."

"The hilt, you're sure? It could have been just from the angle you—whoa! Hey, hey, hey, I'm not the one you should be aiming at, you blowhards!" He shouts when a stray cabbage goes flying past his head, taking a few steps back for coverage from the fire.

"Oops, excuse me." His back hits a pair of legs and Galahad spins round to face the voice's source.

"Oh, I'm…hey…you're Gwen, right? That lady's maidservant from yesterday?"

Gwen gives a bright smile. "I am, brave little hero. The Lady Morgana requested I give you this token as a show of good faith in your fairing come this afternoon. She wishes you only the best of luck, good sir."

Galahad gives a hearty laugh. "Really, now? Well, you may thank the Lady for me and tell her that I will try my hardest just for her. If she enjoys the match, after my win, may I request a prize?"

"Oh? And what sort of prize would you have in mind, young man?"

"I request to be her escort to the feast this evening in honor of Lady Helen. Such a beautiful Lady deserves only the arm of a champion, after all. Alas, though I may be of less than adequate dress, I am more a gentleman than I appear, Lady Gwen, and I hope that will be enough for her to accept."

Gwen smiles, half-covering her bashful smile and girlish giggle with a hand. "I shall inform the Lady of such details when making the request on your behalf, Sir Galahad, though I am sure she can see that for herself. I am sure she would be happy to have you as her escort."

"What's this about escorts and duels, Gal?"

"Oh," Both of them look over at the mess-covered Merlin, the throwers gone for a moment. "And you must be Merlin. Hello, I'm Guinevere, but most people call me Gwen. I think this is a bit unfair for you, I would have done the same thing had it been a younger sibling of mine with a knife in their shoulder."

"Well, Arthur doesn't seem to see it that way." Merlin mumbles, awkwardly trying to stretch his hand through the stocks for Gwen to shake.

"Arthur is a bully." Both Gwen and Galahad say at the same time, drawing a look between each other and a look from Merlin before they all share a laugh.

"Now, you and your brother, braveness seems to run in your family. Not many would dare challenge the prince, even to a simple sparring match with wooden weapons, with an injury."

"YOU WHAT?! Galahad Ambrose!"

Galahad flinches, then hisses in pain as his bad shoulder jerks. "Easy big brother, I've got this. You know how good I am with a pair poles, and I've still got my good arm. It's a piece of cake."

"He's _the prince_, you clotpole!"

"And I've got a plan."

"Galahad, I swear if you…"

"Relax."

"Mom will never forgive me for this!"

"Mum will never know!"

"You think I or Uncle won't tell her?"

"You'd risk your own hide-chewing for a tattle?"

The brother's glare at each other for a long, tense moment.

"I did it for you and for that servant-boy, not for me. Bullies need to be put in their places. I'll be fine," Galahad smiles. "Don't worry. I even got it so your business here will be finished before the match, so I expect you cheering me on in the stands."

"I've half a mind to root for Arthur."

He looks mock-shocked, dramatically placing a hand to his chest. "You wound me, Merlin, you really do."

"I'm not helping Gaius fix you up."

"No, but you'd keep me company while I was recuperating. Regardless, I intend to win, so you don't have to."

"You're insane."

"And your fans are back, bye!"

Merlin's face scrunches as he opens his mouth to yell something at his and Gwen's retreating back, only to be nailed by a rotten apple.

Could this day get any worse?

* * *

><p>AN: Yes, I gave Merlin his own family name. Since Emrys is his Druid name, I had to use his other name from history (though I used a different variant of the spelling). I never liked how Arthur and the nobles were really the only ones with surnames, though I _know _it was a class thing back then, it still gets on my nerves.

Look forward to hilarity, Arthur v. Galahad, and a twist to cannon next chapter. Though, I don't know when that will be out, so I won't make any promises. This one was a surprisingly quick one for me too, but I think it was the great reviews :)

Thanks to everyone liking this story so far, I'm glad you think it has potential.


	3. Destiny Means Pain (Re-written)

**A/N:** I re-wrote this chapter because I was unhappy with it, as well as some fans. I have guest reviews enabled, so if you reviewed last time, you can do so again. I would appreciate your take on my re-edit for those of you that did.

Disclaimer: Merlin is not mine, but I own Galahad. Haha, I got the cute one!

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><p>The seats were surprisingly full in the arena that afternoon, Merlin noted as he stood next to Gaius on the sidelines, watching as unknowing father and son faced each other in a stare-down on opposite sides of the ring. Arthur must have spread the word.<p>

"It seems as though he likes to make a grand spectacle of beating children, the prat. I ought to be the one facing him down, not Gal." The warlock growls between his teeth.

"And get thrown in jail again? After the strings I pulled to get you released, I would not be so kind as to do so a second time." Gaius counters. "Look, the boy might not have a chance, but you must admit that this will teach him a lesson, and if nothing else, the boy does have courage and a good heart."

"Yeah, but I'd just wish he would learn when to keep his fists down. He needs to know when he's outmatched, but he doesn't. It never matters who he's fighting or who he's fighting for, but he never cares so long as it will bring 'justice and equality.' I worry so much about him, Gaius. One of these days he'll go too far, get knocked down and never get back up."

"That certainly sounds like Arthur. Always so brave and sure of himself, wanting nothing more than simple fairness, but from the sounds of it, he's also not so selfish like the prince. And he does at least have half a mind, good sense not to ask for a duel to the death, never mind wooden weapons. Your brother will be fine, and one way or another I think we will all learn something for what is about to happen."

Merlin simply nods, muscles tensing as the horns blow, signaling the beginning of the match.

Galahad doesn't wait a moment longer, charging with a battle-cry at the overall bored-looking king. Arthur gives a lazy but swift swing of his sword as his pint-sized opponent comes at him, only for his eyes to widen when the smack of wood on wood rings in his ears as Galahad is just as quick to block.

_Well, that's unexpected, not bad._ Arthur thinks, adopting an amused smirk. _Why don't we have a little fun, then, boy?_

Arthur is quick to break the guard-lock, backpedaling just a few paces, lazily twirling his sword in his hand by the hilt. Quicker than anything, Arthur makes a jab, somewhat off by his need to crouch to aim for Galahad's face as the boy barely comes up to his waist, but still, just as quick, Galahad jerks to the side in a quick spin of his toes, leaning back a bit too far on the balls of his feet as he plants them on the ground. Arthur takes the opportunity to side-sweep him, but the boy surprises him, jumping up in a short hop to avoid his leg, like a tree trunk compared to his own.

Arthur goes in for an overhead strike, but is once again intercepted by the boy's pole. Arthur's eyes widen when the boy strikes back to knock the sword away, not expecting the burst of strength in the small boy's body.

Granted, Arthur was holding back, a lot, but this boy was fairing very well so far, if just for his reflexes and speed alone.

_His quickness almost matches mine. _Arthur notes idly. _Perhaps we should expand further on his physical strength, since he's a right bunny._

With this in mind, Arthur puts more force into his next overhead blow, expecting the boy to block again and get thrown off by the force. However, the boy, as if reading his mind, sprawls onto the arena's ground to avoid getting hit altogether. Arthur stops mid-swing, and quick as anything he's seen in his twenty years, his opponent has half-risen to a crawl, his belly still scraping the ground, and shot off _running_.

Arthur decides to show the boy that he can't solve all of his problems by running, let alone shake the future-king of Camelot off with tactics like that, and gives chase, his much longer and stronger legs easily closing the gap to about half of a foot in a matter of strides, but the boy veers off on a dime-turn to set a new course. Arthur turns to follow, only for it to happen again, and again, and again.

"Alright boy, whatever you are trying to do, you'd best—" Arthur is cut off mid-threat as the boy, once again displaying his speed, hops up and swings at Arthur with a short roar, aiming for the prince's abdomen.

Arthur acted on instinct, and the sound of cracking wood rang throughout the air, his eyes bugging out of their sockets.

His opponent crumples to the ground, blood dripping down his forehead as the prince's wooden sword hangs limply at his side, the blade splintered.

* * *

><p>Galahad sighed in contentment as the night air blew against his skin, the sky alight with millions of shinning stars. The concert had been good, though he still thought the reason for the feast was more than a bit grating to the nerves. What about killing almost everything magical was good?<p>

"Stupid king…" He muttered to no one.

His head throbbed and he groaned at the pain. That stupid prince had left the feast as soon as he had shown his face, and to make matters worse, the Lady Morgana had allowed him to escort her! He'd pouted the whole dinner, listening with growing mortification as the king's ward had kept saying how brave he was and how good of a fight he had put up. He didn't want to be pitied! He wanted to be a battle-hero, but that _dumb _prat of a prince just _had _to knock him out! He was doing so well too! Then, bam!

_Galahad._

"Wha!"He jumps, whirling around, only to find no one there. Except his brother…looking awfully in a hurry.

_Galahad._

His eyes widen. The…whoever talking was in…his head? Because Merlin's lips sure didn't move. Hell, he didn't even look like he'd noticed Galahad was there, and the voice sounded way too old to be his brother.

"Where are you going big brother?" He whispered.

* * *

><p>Merlin's pace was hurried as he clambered swiftly down the stairs of the catacomb, torch still leading his way just fine. No one had followed him here, but the voice calling him sounded more than just in his head now.<p>

Waiting for him past the mouth of the underground cave of stairs was a smiling dragon.

"Hello there, young warlock. Have you seen your brother?"

Merlin's eyes narrow. "What do you mean? What does my brother have to with why you called me here?"

"Everything." The dragon answers as he settles on his belly from his rocky perch. "Your brother is the greatest king Abilon will ever know. The King of the United."

"King…" Merlin swallows, shaking his head. "My brother is no king he's—"

"A prince now, yes."

"No! He's no prince either you—"

"Oh, but he is, young warlock, he is Prince Arthur's son and the one who will rule the united Abilon that you will help his father create. It is all in his destiny, just as it is in yours and Arthur's. You cannot deny his parentage, his birthright."

Merlin feels his knees buckle and his heart sink. "What do you mean? Galahad will never know about that. He was never Arthur's son, not when he was thrown away. You can't force something on him he doesn't know about. And-And what's all this about…about Arthur and me too? What do you mean the uniting of Abilon? "

The dragon cocks his head. "It is your gift Merlin, its purpose. Arthur will face many challenges on the road to his destiny and you are to help him. He will create peace between every kingdom and the land will flourish, but one must come after him and his time, and the one to do that will be your brother."

"My powers…they do have a…Wait, no! Galahad…whoever it was he was born to, that doesn't make him who he is! Just because he's of royal blood, you think I'll let my baby brother get put on a throne? You honestly think I'll help someone who is so cowardly that he abandons his child? I don't care what you say; Galahad will have nothing to ever do with Arthur! And let me tell you, Galahad is more of a man now then Arthur could ever hope to be! He doesn't need him! All he needs is me! I'm his brother! I am his family, my mother and I!"

"You cannot change destiny, young warlock; that choice is not yours to make. Regardless, your brother already knows."

Merlin feels as if he's been punched in the stomach. "What?"

"Merlin…" Against his will, his body turns, his horror mounting at the sound of that strained, tearful voice. Galahad stands just at the bottom of the stairs, tears falling from his eyes like a waterfall. "Tell me…Tell me it isn't true…please."

"Gal…Galahad…I…"

Before he can get more out, Galahad turns and runs, his sobs echoing every footfall as he climbs the stairs faster than a bullet.

"Galahad!"

"I told you, young warlock. You cannot stop destiny."

"You!" Merlin whirls, tears blurring his vision and his breathing heavy. "You've ruined everything!"

He does the only thing he can think to, throwing the ablaze torch at the dragon. The beast merely shoots up in a torrent of tornado like wind that knocks Merlin down, avoiding the blow as the torch falls down into the seemingly bottomless chasm below.

"No, young warlock, I have set everything into motion." Echoes the beast's voice from everywhere and nowhere.

"No…no, no, no, NO! DAMN IT ALL, NO! G-Gala…Galahad…I'm sorry…" Merlin's only answer is to hug his knees to his chest and cry into the darkness, lamenting that he had not been more careful.

* * *

><p>AN: Okay, so there's still no Servant Merlin in this story. Did I do a better job portraying Galahad as a 7-year-old, and did you guys like how Arthur was impressed with him to some extent? (Btw, that will play a bit of a role in the story later on.)


	4. Hurt Before Healing

Disclaimer: I don't own Merlin.

**A/N: **In case you didn't see it, I redid chapter 3, so go re-read that before you read this.

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><p>Galahad hadn't come back last night.<p>

It was because of this Merlin sat glaring at Gaius over his untouched porridge, angry over how the elderly physician did not seem to realize the true reality now upon them, and how he had interrupted his search to drag the impromptu-sorcerer kicking and screaming back to the castle's medicinal chambers to 'avoid getting Merlin's head cut off for waking half the castle with his shouts.'

"Wipe that glare off, Merlin." Said the aforementioned glare's subject warningly as he got up from the table with his own breakfast dishes. "Your brother will be found when he wishes to be found, and only then."

"You don't understand, Gal_ knows_!" Merlin finally explodes as his chair is knocked back with a clattering bang and the table shook. Merlin begins pacing like a caged animal, running his hands through his already tousled hair. "He could go to the prat and the king with this! He could be executed, all because he was BORN! He had to be born to that snobbish prince, and it will get him killed, Gaius!"

Gaius pauses stiffly at the kitchen's wash basin, his hands still in the soapy water as he watches his eldest nephew from over his shoulder. "And just how did he come to find out? Did you tell him?"

"You really think I would tell my little brother his entire life is a lie?!" Merlin spat.

"Then how does he know?"

"It was the bloody…" Merlin stops himself with a frustrated groan. He couldn't tell Gaius he had met with the last dragon in existence last night, or that Galahad had followed him and heard their 'philosophical' discussion on destiny. "…King. I guess he recognized Galahad when he came to issue his challenge with Arthur…He came to me after the feast when he saw us and realized I was the brother he was talking about, and told me that I'd better keep my mouth shut. I hadn't even realized Gal had been listening until I went around the corner, and then, before I could say anything, he bolted."

A rapid knocking on the doors garters their attention, Merlin jumping like a startled deer at the sudden racket. This time, it's Gaius showing his frustration, with a loud sigh as he turns from half-washed dishes and dries his hands on a nearby towel. He moves past his frozen-still charge to answer the door, only for his eyes to bugger at the sight that greets him as he does.

"Arthur—"

Arthur interrupts, shoving past the old man into the room with an unconscious, bloody, and very dirty but familiar kittle boy in his arms. "I found him out in the training yard unconscious this morning. It looks like he's done a right job bashing himself senseless trying to practice."

"My god, Gal!" Merlin shouts, rushing over to snatch his injured brother from the prince's arms before anything more disastrous can happen. The boy groans in pain at the transfer, but otherwise doesn't stir. Merlin immediately moves to lay him on one of Gaius' spare examining tables.

"Hey!" Arthur shouts indignantly, spreading his arms. "Don't I get a 'thank you' at least? I didn't have to bring him back here, you know."

"Yes, thank you, sire, for your immense generosity. I apologize for all of the trouble my youngest nephew has been causing you as of late." Gaius hurriedly says, moving in before an indignantly-scowling Merlin can open his mouth and get them all in more trouble.

Arthur settles his gloved hands on his armored hips. "Right, then. See to it he keeps himself out of trouble from now on."

"Yes, my lord." Gaius nods, firmly closing the door as Camelot's prince makes his exit. No sooner does he that Merlin explodes.

"Who does that self-righteous Dollop head think he is?! Isn't it his sworn duty to protect the people of Camelot?!"

The court-physician moves to the other side of the examining table, making quick work of looking over his most recent patient. "Arthur is yet to be the crowned prince. Right now, his status is the heir apparent."

Merlin looks up with a sour face, but glances down at his brother's injured form and merely decides not to waste Gaius's time with pointless arguing. He moves to get Gaius the necessary equipment needed for treatment instead.

* * *

><p>Galahad groaned as he returned to the waking world, the first thing he became aware of being that everything hurt immensely, particularly his shoulder.<p>

"Serves you right, Gal, what were you thinking?"

That voice. It's all the boy can do to turn his head, but, sure enough, sitting in a chair and fixedly staring at him with a stern look is his older brother beside him. The memories come flooding back enough to make a fresh wave of hurt and anger roll over the pain of his wounds, and Galahad musters the strength to glare right back. It must have been good, because the next minute, his brother's face crumbles in absolute hurt and confusion. Good, let him be hurt, it probably couldn't even come close to how bad _he_ felt right now, but it was a small, delicious victory, and the younger brother smiles on the inside.

"Why'd you do this Galahad?" Merlin averts his eyes to the floor, trying hard to ignore the burning of his little brother's eyes through the top of his skull.

"You lied."

"No, I never told you—"

"What's it matter? When would it have come up? You have been lying to me my whole life, and if we hadn't come here, you would have lied for the rest of it! YOU LIED!" He roared, tears he refuses to let fall burning his eyes.

Merlin shakes head over and over, quick little jerks from side to side, eyes still trained on the floor as his own voice grows small, his own eyes burning. "I would never lie to you, Gal, you would have found out, but do you think I wanted it like this? Do you think I would have wanted you to learn about it the way you did?"

"What do you care? I'm not yours and I never have been!"

Those words.

Those are the words Merlin has dreaded hearing from his precious baby brother every waking moment of every, single day for the last five years. Those are the words that have haunted his worst dreams, and the words that now give him an invisible, gaping wound that nothing can ever completely fix and that he will carry to the grave. Those are the words that, no matter what has happened between them or what words will be next said, nothing in the past or future of their family, those words…

Those words will always hold truth, and that hurts him more than anything. That is what allows his tears to fall, and his restraint to evaporate.

Without rationality, without caring of the quickness and jarring-effect of his actions, Merlin is on his feet, grabbing his brother by the shoulders and starring him in the face.

"NO! You're my brother, of course I care, Galahad, I love you! I love you, and so does Mom!" It's the whimper that snaps him out of it, and the sight of the welling tears in Galahad's eyes. Merlin's hands drop uselessly to his sides, but his eyes remained locked on his brother's. Merlin takes a deep, shaky breath, asking the question he has never wanted to need to ask. "Or does this change it all?"

"W-What?" Galahad sniffles, and Merlin hates himself for what he's about to do.

"Does it change how many nights I would sing you to sleep, or how many of your diapers Mom changed? Does it change that we've stood by you for the last seven years and raised you, celebrating every year the day that you came to us? Does it change who you are?" Merlin screws his eyes shut, his fists clenching at his sides before he forces the next words from his throat. "Say it and I'll leave. If you want me to…If you believe that…just say it."

Merlin had never been more relieved and more enraged to hear his brother crying, only this is the first time he has been angry at himself, because this is the only time he's ever intentionally made Galahad cry, and he vows for it to be the last. Merlin does what has longed to do since last night. Slowly crawling onto the tiny cot, the young sorcerer settles cross-legged and scoops the sobbing ball of a child beside him into his arms, letting the endless tears and snot soak his shirtfront without care. Taking one more steadying breath, Merlin does the one thing he knows will have any success in calming down the torrent of tears and sobbing hiccups.

He sings, soft and slow.

"_Deep in the meadow, under the willow._

_A bed of grass, a soft, green pillow._

_Lay down your head, and close your eyes._

_And when again they open, the sun will rise._

_Here it's safe, and here it's warm._

_Here, the daisies guard you from every harm._

_Here your dreams are sweet, and tomorrow brings them true._

_Here is the place where I love you._

_Deep in the meadow, hidden far away._

_A cloak of leaves, a moonbeam ray._

_Forget your woes and let your troubles lay._

_And when again it's morning, they will wash away._

_Here it's safe, and here it's warm._

_Here, the daisies guard you from every harm._

_Here your dreams are sweet, and tomorrow brings them true._

_Here is the place where I love you._

_Ba-da-da-da-da-da-da_

_Ba-da-da-da-da-da-da_

_Ba-da-da-da-da-da-da_

_Here is the place where I love you._

_Deep in the meadow, hidden far away._

_A cloak of leaves, a moonbeam ray._

_Forget your woes and let your troubles lay._

_And when again it's morning, they will wash away._

_Here it's safe, and here it's warm._

_Here, the daisies guard you from every harm._

_Here your dreams are sweet, and tomorrow brings them true._

_Here is the place where I love you._"

"Mer…" Galahad clutches tightly to his soaked shirt with a hesitant grip, his crying subsided save for his occasional hiccup from such a hard bout.

"Yes?"

"Why didn't my daddy want me? Was there something wrong with me?"

"No, Gal, you're perfect just the way you are." Merlin sighs, closing his eyes as he searches for the words his mother had said to him when she had told him the truth. "It's just…you were born before your time."

"What's that mean?"

"It means, uh, that…well, it is…like…" Merlin groans when he hears Galahad giggle, finding it a bit morbid how his brother enjoyed baring witness to his inner-turmoil. "Look…Arthur, he-he made some…uneducated choices, at a very young age, that…lead to you, but he was just too young to be a father."

"Too young? But I thought only married grown-ups could be Mums and Daddies. That's what Mum said."

"Uh…" Merlin feels his face suddenly become very, very warm, knowing that he treads in very dangerous waters. "Maybe…you should ask Gaius. After all, babies have a lot to do with medicine and Gaius is the best physician in the land, right?"

Galahad nods. "Okay, but…does that mean I was a mistake?"

"No! No, no, no, Gal! You were an accident, not a mistake! That's what it means to be born ahead of your time; that you _were _supposed to be born, but it happened a few…months or years earlier than expected, okay?"

"So…what would happen if I was born when I was s'posed to be?"

Merlin grimaces. This was a question he would rather fumble through explaining the birds and the bees than answer, all because he knew the answer too well.

"Bubby?"

The raven-haired boy swallows the lump in his throat, not about to lie to his brother after how they'd began. "You probably would have been raised here, in Camelot…by Arthur."

"Oh…but…then we wouldn't be brothers…and I'd…" He looks down at both of their laps as he twiddles his thumbs for a long moment of stretching silence. "Merlin?"

"What is it, Gal?"

"Is…Is what that…thing said true? Am I…going to be a king when I grow up?"

"…I don't know…I don't really know if we can trust his word, but…Do you want to? Be a king, I mean."

"I always wanted to be a magic knight…but…maybe a king would be better, 'cause then I can lift the ban on magic, and then I can make you a Council Wizard and we wouldn't have to hide our powers anymore. But…being a king sounds lots harder than being a knight…like a lot of work…and scary."

"It is."

"But…" Galahad's face scrunches in thought. "The thing you were talking to said it was destiny, and we both know that destiny isn't changeable."

"Well, yes, but like I said, I'm not sure we can trust what it said, Gal."

"I dunno…got a bad feeling, Bubby."

Merlin rubs the top of his wild, blonde hair. "So do I, but we still have each other, right?" He nods. "Then we'll be fine."

"Yeah…Bubby?"

"Hmm?"

"I love you…"

"I love you too, Galahad."

"I'm sorry I was such a clotpole."

Merlin laughs for what feels like the first time in years. "Don't worry about that, you dingbat, I'm sure I'd have done the same thing, had our positions been reversed."

"But I was mean…and I said bad things."

"Hey, look at me." He guides the boy's small chin up so that his sincere eyes are perfectly clear. "It's water under the bridge, Gal. You were angry, and you had a right to be, so I won't hold you for it."

Galahad just nods, wrapping his arms around Merlin's waist and burrowing his head into Merlin's chest. It speaks more volumes than a million words, and Merlin carefully returns the hug with relief flooding his heart, washing his fears away.

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><p>AN: Okay, not a whole bunch of Father/Son action, but that's why next chapter will be mainly focused on Galahad and Arthur. I wanted to get the whole reveal-trauma for the brother's out of the way, and while they've made up for now, believe me when I say that this issue isn't entirely over. As Merlin said, Galahad's words will always hold truth.

Oh, and the song Merlin sang was the full version of Katniss Everdeen's lullaby from the Hunger Games.

Anyway, I hope you liked it. Please review~


	5. Dreams & Chances

Disclaimer: I don't own Merlin, but see if you can spot the reference to Season 1 in this chapter.

Also, I just wanna say thanks to all of the reviewers, favoriters, and followers of this story. This is my most popular story that isn't a Naruto one, and I'm super glad it's so liked. So, thank you.

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><p>"Oi, lad, how are you holding up?"<p>

Galahad stopped in his tracks on the market street as the familiar voice spoke, a towering figure overshadowing him. Galahad quickly shuts his journal with an audible snap, securing under his good arm. Starring at the ground, the young boy's heart was in his throat as one word came to his mind.

_Daddy…_

"Well, what's the matter, lad? Can't you talk?" Arthur presses as the worried furrowing of his brow is lost on the rather downcast-looking child before him. Suddenly, a knowing smile sprouts on his face. "Ah, I know, you're still sore about the turnout of our match the other day, aren't you?"

"No, sir, I'm fine." He strangled the words out, praying to God he wouldn't slip up, he wouldn't let the obvious secret out of the bag.

Arthur waves his words away as if fanning a fly. "Nonsense, now…Galahad, wasn't it?"

Galahad flinches, hearing the way his name sounded so foreign on his own father's tongue, like it should be natural, an everyday kind of word, but isn't. He gives a short jerk of a nod as an answer.

"You know, I was actually rather…shocked with how well you held up. Packed quite a fight in such a runt…" Arthur feels his neck redden with the next words about to come from his mouth, finding the sky as interesting as the boy seems to find the ground. "And I, ehrrm, I mean…I'm, uh, _sorry_ for…well, cracking your noggin…and putting a knife in your arm."

Arthur will never admit he flinched when the sound of light, bubbly laughter reached his ears, the prince fixing the giggling little boy with a glare. Unfortunately, it doesn't silence him, actually making him laugh _harder_.

"Well, um…_thank you_, sir. An apology is better late than never, I s'pose."

Arthur looks unconvinced. "Right, then…well, I wanted to…maybe invite you to the courtyard for morning training, let you see how real men spar, eh? You've got talent, but it's wasted without knowing proper form and technique, and you can learn that just by watching…so, you know, you won't aggravate your injuries…How old are you, anyway, lad?"

"Wait, wait…" Galahad raises an eyebrow, a grin splitting his face. "Are you…offering to train me?"

Arthur scoffs and rolls his eyes. "Just answer the question, boy. Come on, now, before I change my—"

"I'm seven, sir. I'll be eight just before the year's end."

Arthur raises his eyebrows and frowns. The boy has a genuine smile on his face, much more preferable to a ridiculous grin, but…it somehow strikes him as familiar.

_Eight before the year's end…Why does that feel…important? _Arthur wonders. "Really, when is your birthday?"

The boy's smile melts to a solemn frown. "The twentieth of December, sir."

Arthur raises an eyebrow. "Ah, too close to Saturnalia***** for your liking, I take it?"

The boy snorts but gives a bobbing nod. "If you only knew…"

"Yes, well, I wouldn't. My birthday is the sixth of April*****, just a month away, actually."

"I know; the whole kingdom is already talking about the feast. You'll be Crowned-Prince Arthur then, won't you?"

"Yes," Arthur smiles fondly. "It'll be just as grand as the feast to celebrate my coming of age when I was thirteen, if not more."

"Um," Galahad clears his throat. "Right…So, you were talking 'bout training?"

"Hmm? Oh, yes!" With ease, the prince reaches out and grabs the boy by the scruff of his shirt-collar, lifting him effortlessly in the air as though he were weightless, and proceeds with his protesting companion to the training grounds.

* * *

><p>"Alright, you jumped up dung beetles, we all know this young man. His name is Galahad Ambrose, and he will be undergoing a test of manliness as well as participating as an observer. Galahad, what is your weapon of choice?"<p>

That was his introduction, all eyes glued to him even as he stood by the prince's side. He gulped and hugged his journal closer, so tight that his knuckles were white. "A wooden pole. Preferably two, but…my arm."

Arthur snorts, and the knights all chuckle. "A _wooden pole_? Galahad, have you ever worked with any real weapons? _Held_ a sword, at least?"

"Well…no." The boy admitted as he shook his head, his hair swirling around him with the motion. "I really…um…You see…I want to be the first…special kind of knight called a lancer."

"What in God's name is a _lan_cer?"

"Uh, w-well, a…a lancer is a knight…who uses a lance in a battle…instead of a sword, sir…" He shrinks further in on himself with every pause, but even preparing himself does not lessen the sting that comes with the uproarious laughter.

"A-A knight…w-who doesn't…doesn't use…a sword?! Hahaha! Are you listening to yourself?! God…God have mercy!" Arthur manages to gasp out, clutching his sides. Several other comments along those lines are thrown out before the laughter fully dies down and Arthur regains his composure. "Boy, a knight who uses a lance in ground-oriented combat will get himself killed before he sees his first battle through. Have you_ seen_ a real lance? They are primarily for jousting, and rare aerial-attacks, but that's all. That is the way that it is meant to be. I mean, a single blow from a blade can slice through a lance's guard like _butter_—"

"That's _why _you have to make a _new _kind of lance! For starters, one made entirely of metal, like steel!"Galahad burst out in a rush, flipping through his journal like a madman with his cheeks aflame. "Look! I've actually _got _drawings for it! Right here! I've got measurements, and pro-propor_tions_, and-and everything! _Look_!"

"Hmm…" Arthur takes the held aloft journal by the open spine and observes it skeptically with pursed lips. He flips through only a few pages before snorting and tossing the leather-bound book in the opposite direction.

"Hey! No, my journal!" Galahad cries, watching as his hard work falls a few yards behind him with abject shock.

"It's nothing but nonsense. The best weapon, the most important weapon for a knight, is a sword. If you're going to be a knight one day, then that is the tool you will learn to use. I suggest you get these fanciful ideas out of your head quickly, lad."

"But—"

"No buts!" Arthur snaps. "Do you want to be a knight someday?"

"Yes…sir."

"Then learn to follow commands and how to use a sword." He turns to the knights gathered. "Now, should we show this maggot how real knights fight?"

* * *

><p>"They <em>laughed<em> at me, Mer! And look, they bent the spine!" He says for the fifth time since he'd come home, pointing to the crumpled leather of his journal as Merlin works cleaning his recently re-sewn stitches in their room.

Merlin smiles before gingerly reaching for the book and taking it from the upset boy's grasp, looking at the spine as he turns it in his hands. "Rectum*****," The leather groans as an invisible force straightens it instantly. "There, all fixed."

"Thanks…that solves something, at least." The younger mumbles as the fixed journal is placed in his lap.

"Come on, Gal, it isn't that bad. Besides, what have I always told you about being laughed at?"

Galahad rolls his eyes and groans. "That; 'Greatness is always laughed about at first, but when it becomes reality, the great ones will be the ones with the last laugh. The joke is on those who don't believe.' "

"Exactly, it's just like magic. Your ideas aren't the norm, not what people are used to, so it'll look strange to them, but you just have to show them the good in it all, and their eyes will be opened. It'll just take time, and unlike magic, all you have to do is give them a demonstration of what the new weapons can do, and their advantages over a sword. You know Gwen?"

"The Lady Morgana's maid?"

Merlin nods, helping him into his shirt. "Her father is the blacksmith. Why don't you go to him tomorrow and show him your designs? I bet he'd be happy to make a couple of prototypes for you."

"You really think so?"

Merlin smiles, ruffling his hair and giving him an unexpected tickle-ambush with his other hand, causing an uproarious bout of manic giggles and futile thrashing.

"Mer-Merlin! S-Stop!"

"What's the magic word~?" Merlin sing-songs over the laughter.

"A-Astynte*****!"

Merlin pretends to freeze in place, allowing Galahad out of his hold and only re-animating when his brother gives him a light smack upside the head from beside him.

"Mean!" He accuses.

"I know." Merlin replies with a grin.

Merlin laughs as he gets knocked off of the bed with a solid whack from the bed's pillow, sending feathers everywhere.

* * *

><p>Tom was a big, somewhat portly, and quick-moving man with a gentle and kind smile that went well with his round face. Without that smile, Galahad was sure he could seem very intimidating.<p>

"So, Gwen tells me you have some sketches for me to look at, is that right?"

"Uh, yes, they're…uh…well, here." Galahad swallows nervously, his toes digging into the dirt floor as he awkwardly outstretches his arm to offer his journal.

"Galahad, yes?" Gal nods meekly. "Something wrong?"

"N…No, sir."

Tom looks and Gwen, the maid simply shrugs her shoulders. "Well, then, let's have a look." Tom carefully opens the journal. His eyes pop upon seeing only the first drawing. "Boy,"

Galahad jumps in his skin. "U-h, yes sir?"

"Is this armor I'm seeing?" He holds out the book again.

"Oh, uh, yes…I…I've always thought, uh, Mail was a bit of weak protection…and heavy. So, I came up with ideas for a lighter shell to be worn over a lighter kind of Mail, and the lighter Mail should be just as strong as the current kind…Um, the, uh, 'dress' you see is actually a cloth garment I made to be worn over all of the armor. It's so a soldier can better move about…" He trails off as he begins carefully turning a number of pages, just briefly skimming each one. "But, that's, uh, not…what…ah, here."

Tom takes the book back, and his eyes go even wider than before as he stares at the specific page. "God have mercy…" He whispered.

"D-Daddy? Are you alright?" Gwen steps forward, placing a hand on his shoulder. Tom looks to awake as if in a trance, his eyes immediately landing on Galahad as he shuts the journal with a quick crack that causes both the boy and his daughter to jump.

"Galahad,"

"Y-Yes? Uh, yes…sir?" Galahad audibly swallows.

Tom smiles the kind smile Galahad had been greeted with upon Gwen bringing him here. "Come back in a week to get your lances, but…do you mind if I read the rest of this book?"

"Oh, um, sure sir. Not a problem…a-and thank you, sir."

Tom grins. "What's with all this 'sir' nonsense, boy? My name's Tom, so Tom will do. Alright, Galahad?" He extends one meaty hand from over his counter for the boy to shake.

Galahad visibly calms, reaches up on his tiptoes, and gives a firm grip of the bigger man's paw with a solitary shake. "Okay, Tom."

"That a boy. Okay, one week. Don't forget Galahad."

Galahad gives the biggest grin of his life that would put the son to shame. "I'll be counting down every minute, s-uh, Tom."

Tom gives a hearty, bellowing laugh and slaps his knee. "Go on, kids. I've got a deadline to meet."

"Bye Daddy." Gwen gives him a kiss on the cheek before she and Galahad depart, a little ways down the street she clears her throat and eyes the boy beside her with a look of skeptical curiosity. "So, mind telling me why you were worried my father was going to bite off your head?"

Galahad freezes before realizing he'd been caught and heaving a sigh. "It was…Prince Arthur and the knights all laughed at me yesterday when I showed them my journal. They said if I want to be a knight, then I have to use a sword."

"Arthur, of course." Guinevere scoffs. "Don't listen to him, Galahad. I think you of all should know by now he's nothing but a selfish, arrogant bully. Besides, you saw my father back there; he was really blown away by you…and I think he might make more than just your lances, too."

"Well, you really think so?"

Guinevere smiles softly, her voice full of conviction. "I know so."

Galahad rubs the back of his neck and grins. "Thanks."

The two make their way back to the castle with peaceful chatter, Gwen carrying most of the conversation and Galahad having been invited to lunch with Lady Morgana when he requested of Gwen about her father. Then, disaster struck, in the form of a six-foot tall, blonde snob of a prince.

"Hello, Sir _Lan_cer, invited by the king as a reward for your ingenious fighting on the battlefield?"

Galahad's jaw works as he grinds his teeth, the knuckles of his clenched fists ghostly-white, his eyes locked straight ahead at Arthur's legs.

"Aw, what's the matter, Gal-a-had? Are you _still_ upset?" The words contradict their jiving-tone as Arthur laughs at his own, unfunny joke. "Come on, boy, answer your superiors when you're asked a question. You have to know that if you're to be a knight."

"Arthur, leave him alone! You should be ashamed of yourself! First, you injure him, not once but _twice_, and now you have the gall to mock him! He is just a boy, not something to entertain you! I always knew you were a bully, but I never knew you would one day stoop so low as to victimize mere children!" All three of them whirl around to find the king's ward glaring just a few paces beyond her yelling-target as she comes to a halt, hands on her hips.

"Morgana!" Arthur shouts with an indignant frown. "I am not 'victimizing' him! Can I not poke fun at whom I please when we are acquaintances? And both of those times were mishaps; I had no intent to do him harm on either occasion!"

"Really?" Morgana glares. "Because he doesn't seem to think it 'fun' Arthur!"

Indeed, Galahad looked ready to either have a temper tantrum or cry; his face red, his eyes slammed shut, his jaw looking likely to snap along with his fists, and his shoulders and arms shaking. Without warning or word, Galahad zips past Arthur and behind Morgana so that the young woman will further protect him. His answer is apparent when Morgana reaches behind her to put a hand on his head.

"And if you must know," Morgana continues softly, her voice like steel. "I have invited him to lunch in my chambers." She glances behind Arthur from over his shoulder. "Come along, Gwen."

With that, they leave a dumbfounded Arthur behind them in the hall, Morgana tugging Galahad by the hand behind her at a quick pace.

* * *

><p>"Honestly, do not pay Arthur any mind, Galahad." Morgana carried on once the three of them were seated for lunch in her chambers. "I'd apologize for his behavior, but it isn't my place. Hopefully he gets some decent brains in his head soon, because Camelot's future does look rather bleak as he is now."<p>

Galahad just hums as he picks at his salad of greens with his fork. Morgana and Gwen exchange a look.

"Galahad, is something else bothering you?" Gwen asks gently.

"Nothing."

"Oh, come now." Morgana snorts. "Since we first saw you this morning you have been acting skittish, and even your brother mentioned you have acted strangely when we saw him. Merlin, wasn't it?"

"Worrywart, more like…"

Morgana smiles at the grumbling of her little guest. "Regardless, what is at you today?"

"Well…"

"It's alright, you can tell us. I promise, neither of us will tell another soul." Gwen smiles softly as she rubs the boy's unruly hair.

Galahad looks underneath the fringe of his bangs at that. "Really? Never ever, you promise?" They both nod. "Well, I'm not so sure it's 'llowed to be talked 'bout…but…Did Prince Arthur…ever have a baby? A son?"

Morgana and Gwen both go pale as the room falls into a deathly-silence. Finally, Morgana regains her voice. "Where…Where did you hear about that?"

"Around." He shrugs in response.

"Well…Arthur did, but, from what I understand, the baby died in childbirth and Uther locked the entire affair away from the beginning, so Gaius buried the remains somewhere out of Camelot. The rest, I'm afraid, I am unaware of; it was but a little over a year after my arrival here."

"He's lying…"

"What? Who is lying?" Gwen asks.

"The king."

"About what?"

"What you just said…'bout Arthur's son."

"Oh?" Morgana raises an eyebrow. "And…why is that?"

Galahad brings his face up to them, his eyes full of fear and his skin as white as a ghost's.

"Because, I'm him."

* * *

><p>AN: Okay, okay, I know what you're going to say; "Galahad was _way_ too trusting with the secret. He's hardly interacted with Morgana and Gwen. He doesn't really know them."

Kids are very naive, and they promised to never tell a living soul, and he double-checked that promise. To a kid, that's good enough grounds to spill it. Especially to friendly-seeming people who have helped you, even if they still are relatively strangers.

Oh, and those bolded astral-symbols are my footnote-markers, so anytime you see one it's either important or a fun little fact that I'll explain.

**(1)**: Saturnalia is what people in medieval times called Christmas, and, strangely enough, Christmas Eve was called Adam and Eve Day back then.

**(2)**: Arthur's birthday, April 6, was a deliberate choice. April is the month of the dragon totem, and people born in April are apparently supposed to be Arthur's character personality-wise to a 'T.' if you don't believe me, check out the link below on Google Images:

.

Galahad's birthday is the same for his personality, but that was kind of a happy accident. Also, yes, I had Galahad be born two weeks early. I wanted it to be before Christmas and I wanted it to be within the year. Besides, did that at two weeks early, a baby is still considered full term? Neat, huh?

**(3)**: Rectum means 'straighten' in Latin.

**(4)**: Astynte means 'stop' in Latin.

Sorry about the long AN, but I'll end it here. Let me know what you guys think of the chapter.


	6. How Far Will You Go? Part I

Disclaimer: Merlin is not mine, and I am not making any money, unless the enjoyment I get from doing this can count as payment. :)

A/N: Okay, I think I should explain now that most of this story will focus on changing cannon around with Galahad's presence, along with some in-between transition chapters.

This chapter takes place during The Poisoned Chalice, but I should let you know now that the order of episodes this story will follow is changed from the show. I think it works, since most episodes (of the first season, anyway) have their own plots rather than making a continuous story line. The explanation for why this comes first, when its part II of Nimueh's first kill-Merlin-plot in cannon, will come later down the road.

* * *

><p>Morgana barely listened as King Bayard droned on in his toasting speech to celebrate Mercia's new alliance with Camelot. Her mind kept replaying yesterday's events over and over again, her stomach in knots.<p>

* * *

><p>"<em>What?" Morgana uselessly tried to clear her painfully squeezing throat as she stared in disbelief at the little boy before her. "What?"<em>

_Galahad's eyes screwed shut as if the words hurt. "I'm…I'm Prince Arthur's son, me…"_

"_Oh…Oh my god…oh god…" Gwen's hands fly to her mouth in shock._

"_No…No this-this has to be some…some…" Morgana babbles, desperately trying to gather her thoughts. _

"_Mistake? Accident? I _was_." Galahad gives a bark of bitter laughter. "Think 'bout it; I was born December 20__th__, the same day my Uncle Gaius brought me to my mommy and big brother, his sister and nephew. Plus, I've been with…my daddy…" The word tastes like candied-poison on his tongue, sweet, but strange and forbidden. "…Enough. Now, I can't look in a mirror. All I see is his frown, his jaw, his skin, and his ears. How we're the same. I noticed I act a bit like him too…pity."_

_Morgana opens and closes her mouth like a fish, starring in horrid fascination at the speaking boy as she tries to take it all in, everything hitting her harder than a brick slapping her in the face. Suddenly an image of Arthur appears in her head, a phantom illusion standing next to the mere child in front of her._

His frown, his jaw, and…ears…Arthur's son. Arthur's son…Arthur's son…he's Arthur's son. Arthur's son _alive_!_ Her thought's repeating in an endless, vicious cycle, Morgana doesn't register as the floor suddenly becomes visible, and then oh-so close._

"_Morgana!"_

_Morgana gasps as Arthur's eyes are boring into hers with worry. His face is only inches from hers, and causing her galloping heart rate to quicken even more. Strong but small hands catch her and yank her upright by the shoulders alone. Then, blue turns to solid brown and the years slough from Arthur's face as Arthur turns into Galahad. Morgana lets out a squeak that might have been a scream if she weren't hyperventilating, suddenly very aware of the sweat thinly covering her forehead._

"_Morgana," Galahad repeats her name, slower, softer. "Can you hear me? Blink."_

_She does. Hard. With little warning, she jerks from his hold, sending him tripping over his own two feet as he stumbles back while Morgana tries shakily to rise from her knees._

"_We…We have to tell Arthur, Uther…Arthur…" She mumbles, still out of breath as she uses the edge of her bed for support, her legs like jelly, with hardly any strength in her body._

"_No!" She barely makes it a step before she is yanked back down again by a fierce pull on the hem of her skirts, landing painfully on her face with a grunt._

"_Galahad!" Gwen cries in shock more than reprimanding._

"_You promised not to tell! Not another soul, remember? You can't! Please!" By the end of his begging, it's obvious from sound alone he's barely biting back sobs, and the dam inside of him breaks. "Y-You…I'm not-not even s'posed to _be_ here! You. Said. I. was…d-d-d-dead…! You ca-ant!"_

* * *

><p><em>You said I was dead…The child died…Gaius buried the remains outside of Camelot…Uther ordered Gaius to kill him, but…My Uncle Gaius…he…<em>Morgana's thoughts rambled on as much as the once-enemy king in an endless jumble. After they had all calmed down, that was all she could think about.

Uther ordered his own grandson's death.

She knew he was cold and hardened to death, but this boy was _family_ and he didn't even possess magic! Her blood boiled at her guardian's audacity and pure ruthlessness, but she and Gwen had sworn secrecy for the sake of the little boy's peace of mind. Now, she couldn't look at Arthur without thinking of Galahad.

_His frown, his jaw, and…ears…_

She was about to go mad.

"And to fallen warriors on both sides." Uther acquiesced in response as they all stood, raising their goblets of wine.

"WAIT! STOP!"

Everyone freezes, watching with wide eyes as Galahad runs into the center of the congregation, wide-eyed, flushed, and winded.

"What is the meaning of this?" Uther questioned, glaring at the boy.

"Arthur's goblet is poisoned! Bayard was seen by a servant!" He answers.

Several gasps and wide mouths could be seen and heard throughout the room.

"This is an out-" Bayard begins to growl, his hand reaching for his sword.

"Stop." Uther orders, before turning to the boy before them. "You say a servant witnessed Bayard lacing my son's goblet?"

Galahad nods. "Yes, my king."

"This is ridiculous. Are you dumb, boy?" Arthur stares incredulously at Galahad.

"Pass me the goblet, Arthur." The king orders, silencing his son as the prince obeys the command dumbly. Uther glares at Bayard over the cup.

"I will not allow this insult to go unchallenged!" Bayard booms, and Uther's glare hardens.

"If you're telling the truth…" Uther walks slowly around the table, swirling the goblet leisurely in his hand as a snake's smile creeps into his. "You don't have anything to fear." Bayard smiles confidently, but Uther pulls back as his meaty fingers brush the silver cup. "But…I want the pleasure of killing you myself if this proves true."

The room is silent for a heartbeat.

"He'll drink it." Uther turns to frown upon the boy shrinking in on himself at his side.

"What?!" Arthur, Merlin, and Morgana all shout.

"Father, he's not even of age, _and _he could die!" Arthur protests.

"Are you mad?!" Morgana bursts out, thinking with mounting horror how Uther's sick wish from years ago may be personally accomplished.

"Please, my lord…" Merlin begins to stammer.

"Silence. You reap what you sew." Uther growls, he stoops slightly and holds the goblet out to the owl-eyed boy.

The room is thick with tension, the air suffocating.

"Well," Uther shoves the cup under his nose. "Go on."

"This is insane. I'll drink—" Arthur begins as he turns to walk around the table.

Without a word, Galahad grasps the cup in both of his small hands and puts it to his lips, audibly gulping the liquid down.

"Galahad!" Both Merlin and Morgana cry while Arthur can only stare in a stunned, mute state.

After several large gulps, Galahad pulls away from the cup, drawing in a huge gulp of air for his oxygen-starved lungs, his eyes glassy and dull as he begins hacking up a lung, a sour grimace on his face. Everyone waits with hammering hearts and bated breaths. Mid-hacking, Galahad inhales once, sharply, and freezes, as if in pain.

He crashes to the floor like a rag doll, the cup clattering with an ominous bang on the polished stone.

* * *

><p>Merlin stared at the book, reading at twice the pace Gaius was explaining out loud.<p>

"He's burning up." Gwen said, desperately mopping his forehead with a wetted washcloth.

Merlin's hands dully banged on the wood as he slammed them down, already turning on his heel. "I'll let you know how that goes. Sounds grand."

"Merlin, wait!"

Merlin glares at the old man, his eyes flashing gold as he makes an animalistic sound in his throat. Gaius's eyes widened, but his hand didn't loosen or move.

"That is my brother, lying there, _dying_. If you think that I am just going to let him go, you're crazier than that old goat of a tyrant you call _king_." Merlin hissed. "If I have to go alone, just for the one in over a million chances that he could live, I will jump head-first into the pits of Hell slathered in cooking grease."

"Merlin…" Gwen begins, her voice wavering.

The warlock's eyes soften considerably as his gaze switches to her, seeing the prone form of his brother beside her. "…Take care of him, Gwen…please, I…"

Gwen nods. "I promise I'll do everything I can."

"Thank you."

Merlin yanks free of Gaius and marches briskly to the door. The creaking of the hinges as it shuts with a slam has a dull permanence about it that echoes throughout the silence of the room.

* * *

><p>"Why?" Arthur questioned as he stared more at the fire in the hearth than at the girl in front of him.<p>

"_Why_?" Morgana balks. "You owe him your life! _That's _why! Arthur, Uther sentenced an innocent child to death for you! Don't you feel the least bit _guilty_?"

"Not why I should go, Morgana, why should I disobey my father's orders." Arthur growls, beginning to pace like a caged animal as he runs his hands through his hair. "Of course I am beside myself that the child may perish in exchange for my life, but Father refused to allow me to even go near Gaius' chambers. Do you honestly think he'll allow me to go on a quest for an antidote?"

"You've already spoken with Uther?" Morgana looks as disbelieving and confused as she sounds.

Arthur stops and glares at her. "Of course I have! He's a _child_!"

_CRACK_

Morgana lowers her ringed-hand to her side once more, nostrils flaring.

"Then _fuck_ Uther's orders, Arthur! You are honestly still willing to listen to a man who murders innocents before your very eyes? Do what is right and repay your debt to that little boy before I kill you myself for being so moronic! Merlin cannot do this himself, and if you are half the better man I think you to be over Uther, you are walking out of that door with him right now!" Morgana growls through gritted teeth, before her face becomes cold, an indifferent mask in the blink of an eye, her eyes gleaming with the daring of her next words. "Or can you live with _another_ child's blood on your conscience?"

The aforementioned quest's second party stood in the corner of his room, looking like a deer on the sharp end of an arrow, startled out of his thoughts by the sound of Morgana's solid slap. He watched Arthur go pale with a numb feeling of distant satisfaction, completely overshadowed by his much bigger feelings of confusion and gut-wrenching fear. The only thing on his mind, you ask?

_Morgana knows. Galahad may die, and of all the things he could have done for his final act, he had to save his father. Meanwhile the one person he told the secret to is trying so hard not to scream it out loud in his face and convince him to save Galahad. Why Galahad? Why did you have to drink it? Why did you have to let the secret out? I swear to God that if we save you, you aren't going to be able to sit down for the rest of your life._

Merlin is once again snapped out of his thoughts as Arthur grabs him by the arm, beginning to haul him to and out the door. The warlock meets eyes with the ward of the bastard king as he leaves, and he can only nod begrudgingly as he feels her hope and prayer of luck reach him through that brief contact.

He has to fight not to even mentally-jinx himself by asking the question of questions. Of course, Merlin already knows well the answer, but he prays he's wrong.

* * *

><p>The sun shone brightly in the morning, despite the gloom of its tense atmosphere, Gwen worked to keep Galahad cool with a wetted-washcloth and a handmade fan while Gaius poured over books to look for ways to help sustain his condition or make him more comfortable.<p>

"Mer…Mer dun go…bad…bad…trap." Galahad mumbled as he thrashed restlessly in his sheets.

"His fever is getting worse, Gaius." Gwen reports. "His breathing is getting more shallow as well. Is there anything we can do?"

The elderly physician comes over and reaches for the ghostly-pale child's wrist. "His pulse is getting…hold on…"

"What is it?"

Gaius pushes up Galahad's sleeve to reveal a purplish-blue bruise almost entirely engulfing his lower arm. "Oh no…This…This can't be right…"

"Gaius, what is that?" Gwen jumps to her feet, unable to keep the panic from her voice.

"The second stage of the poison's illness." He looks her in the eyes, his own as fearful as hers though his voice remains as calm as ever. "Once this comes, the victim only has two days to live."

* * *

><p>"Arthur," Merlin whispered harshly as he pulled him aside from the grateful-looking, injured beauty they had just found. "There's something not right here…I don't think she's who she says she is."<p>

"Nonsense, Merlin, where's your heart? I mean, look at the poor girl!" Arthur whispers back with a glare.

Their group-huddle is broken up by the girl's shrill, terror-filled scream. Arthur immediately draws his sword, and Merlin pales, as they both look on at the giant lizard-creature coming toward them.

"Sweet lord…that's…" Merlin mutters disbelievingly, his eyes wide in mixed-horror and fascination.

"Stay back," Arthur tells the girl more than Merlin as he brings his sword to point and cautiously stands in front of them.

"Arthur—Ow!" Merlin goes to shout to stop him, his eyes already flashing gold, when dagger-sharp nails sink into his arm in a death-grip.

"Don't…please, don't leave me." The warlock is taken by the elbow in the girl's terror, rendered powerless and frustrated in such a position.

"I won't." He growls more than comfortingly-whispers.

The smile she offers him in return sends a shiver of fear up his spine.

* * *

><p>"Merlin…! Get away…'way from her…! Merlin…! Daddy run! Don't fight it!" Galahad's chest jerks, his limbs shaking with spasms as his head thrashes, his face contorted in pain.<p>

"Gaius!" Gwen cries, moving to try and pin his limbs down.

"No, you have to hold him, trap his limbs against his sides." Gaius instructs, grabbing the boy's head in his hands to stop its lolling state. "His seizure will pass on its own. We just have to limit the damage he could cause himself."

"Merlin! Merlin, Merlin…Merlin! Merlin!"

"He's…strong…for a boy." Gwen grunts as his body nearly spills from her arms as she fumbles, trying to restrain him.

"Mer…Merlin…!"

"Shhh, child, Merlin is fine. Merlin is fine." Gaius mutters.

"Daddy…Daddy, kill it."

"What is he talking about?" Gwen asks herself more than Gaius. "What is Arthur killing?"

She and Gaius both freeze, Gwen gasping and Gaius looking at her as if she's sprouted a second head. Even Galahad stills, his fit subsiding. Gwen drops the boy's body, covering her mouth in horror as she and Gaius eye each other, her in fear and him in disbelief.

"You know?"

* * *

><p>"I can't believe you killed it…" Merlin muttered, still in shock as he walked beside Arthur in the caves with his own torch.<p>

"Shut up, Merlin." Arthur mutters. "It's done."

"But—"

"We're here." The girl of the group literally breaks between the two, shoving past them as she points at a spot above their heads on the other side of the natural stone-walkway before them. Small, yellow flowers sit together in a natural-grown bouquet in the groove of a ledge.

"The Mortaeus flower." Merlin whispers as the ghost of his grin spreads across his face, his voice wavering with hope.

"I'll get it." Arthur's voice leaves no room for argument, the blonde already taking a step onto the natural bridge.

"Wait, Arthur—" Merlin stops as he takes a half-step forward himself, Arthur already nearly halfway across.

"Eorðe, lyft, fyr…"

His mind clicks, a memory passing his eyes from the depths of his mind.

_Pretty, dark hair, blue eyes…the maid Galahad talked to…_

Merlin's eyes burn gold in the darkness as he feels the ledge becoming weaker. Arthur stumbles and his torch falls into the darkness below him. He turns, eyes flashing with panic and confusion.

"What a—" His eyes, for the briefest of moments, meet Merlin's golden ones. Arthur freezes, ice flooding his veins as the world slows to a crawl.

_She's a sorceress. She's the one that poisoned the goblet. She _tried to kill_ Galahad, and now she's trying to kill us!_

"**NO**!" Merlin whirls around as if his bones are made of liquid, a roaring, raw scream ripping his throat. "Lyft sy þe in bǽlwylm ac forhienan se wiðere!" Thrusting his torch forward, Merlin's fire becomes an engulfing inferno, shooting towards the now-revealed sorceress.

When the flames recede after what feels an eternity, the witch no longer stands before Merlin. His shoulders loosen, his eyes scanning around him.

"Merlin…" The warlock stiffens, fearful and hurt at the sound of wary terror in Arthur's voice, hearing the sound of boots scraping stone as Arthur takes a step farther away from him. "You're a sorcerer…You…you have magic…?"

* * *

><p>AN: Alright, in case you're wondering how Galahad knows what was going on like Merlin did in cannon, he has a metaphysical (mental) connection with Merlin that is a result of something from their past.

And I know I'm evil for that wicked cliff-hanger, but fret not; Part II of is already in the works, and you _may _get it early, depending on if I do or don't get a lot of homework from school (fingers crossed, please).

I love you guys (I'm twisted with how I show it, yes), and I hope you love me in kind and give me reviews and likes. *nudge, nudge wink, wink*


	7. How Far Will You Go? Part II

Disclaimer: I don't own two pennies to rub together, let alone a show as great as Merlin.

* * *

><p>"<em>Merlin…" Arthur tries again to gain the tense young man's attention, finding his voice strange for the fear and danger that tinges it.<em>

"My, my, Emrys, quite protective, aren't you? Protective…and powerful…" _The sorceresses voice echoes throughout the cave, everywhere and nowhere at once. "It's exactly the reason I wanted you out of the way."_

"_Where are you, witch?! If you wanted me instead of Galahad, why don't you come out and finish me off now?! Was underhanded trickery really the only way you could fathom bringing about my death, you coward?! Are you so weak?!" Merlin yells to the air, his eyes fighting between gold and blue. _

"I am_ far _from weak, Emrys. Though, I must say, your brother is very brave, very strong-willed as well. After all, not every child could survive a lethal poison at twice its potency overnight, but then, he's no ordinary boy…Isn't that right, Arthur Pendragon?_"_

_Arthur is silent, still starring at Merlin._

"_Leave him out of this!" Merlin growls through clenched teeth. Quicker than anything, Merlin has turned around again, his eyes gold, hand outstretched to a spot above Arthur's head. "Onbregdan."_

_A single Mortaeus flower flies to Merlin's hand, quickly getting deposited in his lent belt-pouch. "Arthur get away from there, now. We need to leave."_

"_Merlin…"_

_The warlock raises his empty hands in a surrendering gesture, turning slowly, his eyes their normal, dark-blue color and his face blank. "I am not a monster, Arthur. I am a man, a man with magic and a dying little brother who needs this cure. I would never hurt you; I swear it on my brother's life and mine. Now, please."_

_Arthur hesitates, his own blue eyes boring into Merlin's for a long moment of indecisive silence. Carefully, Arthur takes one step forward. The rock rumbles and Arthur stops, looking uncertain._

"_Arthur, stay calm…This won't hurt, I promise."_

"_Merlin…" Arthur asks guardedly. "You aren't going to—ah!" Arthur cuts himself off with a scream as an invisible force grabs and pulls his body quickly. _

_The ground falls under his feet with a loud groan as he finds himself at arm's-length from the young warlock, and Arthur scrambles on what is left of the ledge Merlin stands on, watching in fear and shock as the rock he stood on disappeared into the darkness of the chasm below, his breath panting._

_He looks to Merlin with wide, disbelieving eyes as the gold from his savior's own disappears. "You saved my life…with magic."_

"_Magic is only as evil or as good as those who use it; magic itself is not inherently evil."_

* * *

><p>The memory evaporates before Arthur's eyes to the dull banging of Merlin's head against the bars of their jail cell in the castle's dungeon.<p>

"Why…why…why…why?" Merlin loses his grip and his strength, falling to his knees, his head in his hands. "DAMN IT!" With a final cry, Merlin splits his knuckles on the cold steel of the bars and flops uselessly onto his back, holding back his scream of frustration through gritted teeth.

"Merlin," Arthur watches on in sadness, his own heart heavy with the guilt he feels for tormenting Merlin indirectly when he only tried to help him, and again in that he had a part in the soon-approaching death of his brother. "I…want you to know that I'm sorry…I apologize for being the cause of your loss and for being of no help in preventing it. I want you to know that I am not like my father, and I've wished for every waking moment since this entire ordeal began that it was me who drank that poisoned-wine. I would never ask of any man to do something that I could not do myself…I'm sorry."

"For what it's worth, thanks, but that doesn't help my brother now. I mean, you barely know him, and he drank that wine for you…knowing full well what would happen. He's too young to die, Arthur, he's just a little boy, not even eight. It…It feels just like yesterday we were at home…still growing up.

I was there when he took his first steps, my name was his first word, I helped him pull his first loose tooth, I taught him to read and write both Latin and English, I helped him eat his cake and blow out his candle during his first birthday, I helped my mom change his diapers, I fed him, I sang him to sleep, looked after him when he was sick, saved every drawing and every little knick-knack or odd trinket he's ever made or gotten me, I taught him to play game, after game, after game with our village's children, I taught him what little about m-medicine…and-and crops…and…animals…I…I love him…too much…t-too much…to just accept th-that I can do _nothing _but let him go…" If Merlin said something else, Arthur could not hear it in his fit of sobbing-cries as he curled up into a ball on the floor and screamed into his face-hiding knees.

Arthur swallowed painfully as he watched the other man fall apart, feeling the need to look away but unable to. He was never comfortable with open emotions, but he didn't feel worthy enough of the privilege to turn away from this god-awful grief that he had such a part in creating. He had to do something, he knew that much, otherwise he might slip into madness with Merlin. So, he gathered what little courage he could find at the moment and crawled over to the sobbing mass that was his cellmate, placing a hand in an awkward, half-hearted gesture of comfort on his back, speaking loudly for Merlin to hear him through his fit.

"You're right; I do barely know your brother, or you for that matter, but I know enough to get a sense of what he clearly means to you, and what you mean to him, obviously. You know I…I can't help but see a bit of myself in him, at times. He seems rather overconfident, but he…he only wants what is fair…and it is painfully-obvious how selfless he is…and I am not ashamed to admit that…he would have been a better man than I when he could truly be called a man…I know that much, and a hell of a fighter too."

"Yeah," Merlin breathes a laugh through his sniffles as he unearths his face. "That's a fact."

Arthur smiles at the progress he's made. "So, that just leaves you."

"What?"

"Come on, Merlin, tell me about yourself."

The warlock snorts loudly. "I will when you will."

Arthur raises his eyebrows, thinks about it, and nods, settling cross-legged on the floor. "Alright, fair enough, I suppose. Let's see…The only person I've ever had any kind of relationship that I can sort of get a sense of how close you and Galahad are is with Morgana. She came to Camelot when she was ten after her father died and she never knew her mother either. My mother, well…she died giving birth to me."

"Must have been…difficult." Merlin answers.

Arthur nods, though the other boy can't see it. "It was. It's…It's because of that, that I have always…thought I was a big disappointment to my father. I've always tried my best to be the best, not because I am the prince, but because…I really, really want him to be proud of me."

Merlin sighs, dragging himself to a sitting position, but his back faces Arthur as he hugs his knees to his chest. "I…never knew my father. My mother has only ever told me about Gaius and neither of them has ever been truly present at all in my living memory. I only indirectly met Gaius the night he delivered my brother. Galahad has been my entire world. Before him, it was just my mom and I…and, well, let's just my gift never exactly gave me a lot of friends.

I got the gift from whomever my father is, born with it. My mom said that I used to move my toys clear across the room since I could sit up on my own. I never wanted it, never thought it was anything but a curse, but then Galahad comes along…He gave me and my gifts a purpose. I would do tricks for him, it helped me look after him sometimes, and I would do anything at all to see him just smile. He made me feel important. He not only accepted me, but was just blown away. I have always been a hero to him."

Arthur nods, frowning. "I…I see. I didn't know…I…I'm sorry."

Merlin continues, frowning himself, as though Arthur hadn't spoken. "And the one time I can really _be _his hero…I've…failed."

"Food for the prisoner," In the stillness of the silence, a voice echoes from down the mostly-deserted hall of their cell-block, one that brings an enormous spark of life into Merlin.

Merlin is stopped from all but banging on the bars and rattling them and yelling, all because a hand roughly grabs him by the shoulder and pulls him back onto the hay-covered dungeon-floor from where he had managed to jump up on his feet. From over his shoulder, Merlin sees Arthur firmly shake his head.

'_Act natural.' _He mouthed after putting a finger to his lips to silence Merlin's protests.

* * *

><p>The first thing that Galahad became aware of when he woke up was that he felt really hot and sweaty. The second was that his chest was heavy, and the third was that someone was crying and saying his name.<p>

"G-Gwen…what's t' matter…?"

"Galahad!" Suddenly, his chest becomes lighter, he hears Gwen gasp, and then, the next thing he knew, he was being hugged. Really, really tightly. "You're alive! Oh thank God!"

"Um…sure…I mean, why would I…not be?" He mumbles confusedly when Guinevere finally lets him go from her strong grip.

Her eyes go wide. "You mean you don't remember?"

"Well," He tilts his head, looking thoughtful. "I remember there was a party, Uther was mad at me, and I drank this really funny tasting water…Wait, did I get drunk?"

"Um," Gwen tries to stifle a smile, but doesn't make it. "Not quite. Come on, there's someone who'll want to see you, now that you're awake."

* * *

><p>"GALAHAD!"<p>

_**BANG! **_

Merlin sees stars, his head suddenly swimming as he finds himself on his back.

"Hahahahaha~! Who…Who _runs _right into metal bars? Hahaha!" Galahad suddenly sobers as he realizes something isn't right. "Wait, why are you and—whoa!" Unfortunately, the guard Morgana 'convinced' to let them in opens the cell, so Galahad is enveloped in his third bone-crushing hug that day as he is yanked off his feet, hearing Merlin's own manic laughter ring in his ears now.

"You're alive, you're alive! Oh, thank God you're alive!" Okay, at this point, he realizes, Merlin is both laughing and crying, but is too busy being spun around, tossed in the air, caught, and smothered with kisses while his brother is doing his own hashing of the Irish jig to ask why. "I thought I'd never see you again…" And…now it's full-on, hysterical sobbing as he is clung to for dear life while Merlin sinks to his knees on the floor. "I love you so much, Galahad, I love you."

"Love…you…too, Bubby, but…can't breathe." Galahad gasps against his chest. In the next minute, Galahad feels the tops his brother's knees pressing into his lower abdomen, his nose pushed into rather musty-smelling straw.

"What *Smack* were *Smack* you thinking *Smack*?!"

"What? W-What I do?! And why are you acting crazy?!" Galahad yells in fear and anger, tears burning his eyes as Merlin's bony fingers dig into his shoulders once he's upright again.

"Galahad Ambrose, I thought Mom and I raised you better; never talk to strangers, never _ever _drink wine until you're of age, and ESPECIALLY don't drink something you _know _is POISONED! Do I make myself clear?"

Galahad stares at him, agape mouth at a loss for words for a brief moment, until he takes a deep breath, closes his eyes, and lets it out slowly through his nose. He stares at his brother with a strangely serene calm. "I plead the fifth, big brother."

Merlin gives him a sardonic, sneering grin. "And I'm a dancing fairy."

Galahad gives a genuine smile full of teeth. "Is that where all of Mum's dresses went?"

The warlock tries, he really does, but comes nowhere close to biting back the grin, or holding back a chortle. Before he can stop himself, Galahad is once again being crushed against his chest,falling to the floor as Merlin goes down laughing.

"Mer,"

"Hmmm?"

"I love you, but can you quit trying to snap my spine, pretty please?"

Merlin smiles into his hair. "Not on your life."

* * *

><p><em>Blessed is the servant who loves his brother as much when he is sick and useless as when he is well and can be of service to him. And blessed is he who loves his brother as well when he is afar off as when he is by his side, and who would say nothing behind his back he might not, in love, say before his face.<em>

_There is no other love like the love for a brother and there is no other love like the love from a brother, because a brother is a friend, protector, and the greatest treasure given by nature. Our brothers and sisters are there with us from the dawn of our personal stories to the inevitable dusk, and should you lose your self and soul, should your God elude you, look for your brother and you will find all three._


	8. Dare to be Great

Disclaimer: See other chapters before this one, they'll tell you.

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><p>Arthur frowned as he stared a short distance across the courtyard. The sun read twelve noon, and still that boy refused to move. Galahad had been working against a training dummy for two hours straight now, and, if the last two days were anything to go by, would take a short breather any minute now before resuming for another two hours, then calling it a day. Arthur had to admit one thing about the boy, he had spirit and courage. Even after being laughed at, the boy had gone through that which went against the done thing, the norm. Even after he was harassed by some of the knights (sans Arthur) the boy would show up to the training yard at ten o' clock in his strange armor with his strange weapons, moving off into an isolated corner to slave away at his self-training.<p>

Galahad's weapons dropped. The time was now, and Arthur moved in brisk strides across the field. Today was the day he could finally get that niggling out of the back of his mind.

"Oi, Galahad, could you come here for a second. I need to talk to you." The boy turned, and Arthur raised his eyebrows as he took in the state of the boy, sweaty, covered in grass and dirt smears, and barely able to catch his labored breath.

"Yes, Arthur?"

"Working hard, I see." Arthur smiled. Ever since he had learned of how he'd saved Arthur's life, Galahad had been rewarded the privilege of addressing him only by name, even at a formal event or when in audience with the king.

Galahad nodded. "Of course, I'm old enough now, and a little dirt's never hurt me."

"Right, of course."

"Was there something you wanted?"

"Yes, actually," Arthur loudly cleared his throat. "Galahad Ambrose, I, Arthur Pendragon, hereby challenge you to a competitive sparring match."

Galahad's eyes went wide. "Why?"

Arthur grinned. "You have real equipment now, and I want to see what you can do with the tools you have been given. Do you accept my challenge?"

Galahad looked contemplative for a moment, looked at his weapons and then down at himself, and finally nodded. "I accept."

With that, the boy silently lunges a strike at Arthur's abdomen, which Arthur impedes with his sword just as quick, and the duel was on.

* * *

><p>Gaius looked out his window as a sudden roaring sounded from the market streets below. The usually peaceful crowd of shop-goers was acting like they were in the arena stands, and a moment later, Gaius saw why, and three words came to his mind as he watched Galahad run through the street, dodging Arthur as he went.<p>

_I deny responsibility. _Gaius thought turning back to his work. _Merlin can clean this up. _He added when a picture of the 'elder' brother flashed into his mind.

* * *

><p>On the streets below…it wasn't so easy to have peace of mind.<p>

"Come on, Gal, quit…dodging." Arthur swung again and again, further scratching the once flawless steel as he pressed the boy, whose arms were noticeably shaking as he held steadfast to his defense _and _continued his attempt at retreat. "Fight like…a man."

"I'm a boy!" Arthur dodged to the side as a whipping-strike from the longer lance's blade just barely missed his armored-side, the shorter lance still blocking Arthur's sword.

Arthur grinned. "A boy you may be, you've a better hunger for battle than most of my new recruits."

Arthur makes a fast stab for his unprotected stomach, only for his blade to skid along the short, triangular blade of the short lance as Galahad pivots like a dime on his heels, sliding his lance's blade up Arthur's to keep the guard locked as he goes. The panting child hits his knees hard in the dirt, but still grits his teeth, even as Arthur uses his height and strength a little more to his advantage. It's only as he lies folded over his legs in the dirt like a sandwich, that Arthur backs off completely. Stepping a few paces for some distance as he offers his hand.

"You're right, though." He says to answer Galahad's questioning, disbelieving, and confused face. "You are still a boy, and you have a long way to go in the ways of knighthood." He grins. "So I guess I'll have to teach you, then."

Galahad falls back into the dirt on his butt in shock. "Say what…?"

Arthur frowns, bending on one knee in front of the boy with a gaze that screamed for obedience and rapt attention. "Let me ask you something," He said in near a whisper. "Do you know how much your brother has risked for you in the time you came to Camelot alone?"

Galahad audibly swallows, nodding nervously because he is untrusting of his voice.

"You do?" He nods again. "Then tell me."

"H-He's risked his life, his freedom…everything a man could have to his name…for me." He answers meekly, not daring to fidget.

"Exactly, and a true man does goodly to others as is done unto him. A true man shows dedication for that kind of sacrifice and pride for being so loved. How are you going to do that for Merlin?"

"By being a man he and I can be proud of, and giving my hardest every day to make as much a difference as I can in the world, for the better."

Arthur smiles as the boy's eyes shine with a sudden dead-set determination. "It seems you understand, but you'll need help along the way to fill that tall order. Both you and your brother saved my life, and I want to repay that debt to the both of you. How would you like to be my squire? I warn you, if you, at any point in time, whine, grumble, refuse to comply with and/or disobey an order I or any knight on my behalf gives you, you will _**never**_ be allowed to show your face around the training grounds again. Do I make myself clear?"

Galahad simply grins. "Crystal…So, when do we start?"

* * *

><p>"Arthur," Uther lifts his head as his son enters the empty council room in stride, stopping near the doors at the other end of the table from where Uther himself stands, with his arms crossed and his face neutral. "Good, you're just in time."<p>

"You wished to speak with me, Father?"

"Yes, I… Well, I have heard something rather interesting." The king says carefully.

"And what have you heard, Father?" Arthur raises an eyebrow as Uther slowly makes his way around the table, his deliberately slow footfalls echoing almost ominously throughout the room as he keeps his eyes on his son.

"I have heard that you have made the youngest charge of Gaius you're squire."

Arthur nods once to this, his face still remaining blank. "That I have. Both he and his brother have saved my life. A debt had to be repaid, and the boy is very clear in his ambitions to be a knight. I figured I could at least give him the chance he deserves."

"Arthur, you do realize that the boy is not a noble, not even a citizen of Camelot, merely an immigrant, don't you?"

Arthur leans his weight on his arms as he places his palms flat on the surface of the table. "I do, but, even so, the boy has sworn allegiance to the crown by not just becoming a squire, but becoming _my _squire. He is nothing if not a man of his word and determined, and I could not ask for a better apprentice in the ways of knighthood, debt or no."

"The first code of Camelot has never been broken under any circumstances."

"Then make him a noble and have his brother swear fealty as well."

Uther snorts. "Ludicrous, Arthur, I cannot just establish a—"

"Then there is no compromise or solution, Father."

"I will not knight that boy, Arthur. He is a _peasant_. The only thing worse is if he were to have magic." Uther growls low.

"You do not have to knight him, Father. It could be many years before he is ready to be a full-fledged knight, so long that I will likely be the king. After all, he is still a child, no matter how much promise he shows." Arthur only barely suppresses a wince, his face remaining stony save for the brief flash of panic in his eyes at the last word Uther spoke.

"You are willing to keep him for that long?" Uther looks as incredulous as he sounds, gaping at his son.

Arthur shrugs carefully. "Possibly, Father; the debt only requires that I give him the chance. Surely, it will do no harm to simply do so little?"

Uther is silent for a long, uncomfortable moment, all but glaring at his son and heir. "No, I suppose not, if you are truly determined to see this through to such an extent."

"I am."

"Then give him his chance, but he is solely your responsibility in that regard."

Arthur bows as Uther waves a hand in dismissal before turning for the doors. "Of course, Father."

* * *

><p><em>Incredible, only a week and he's showing such phenomenal progress. <em>Arthur thinks as he looks back, watching As Galahad worked on his striking-depth.

True, Arthur worked him like a dog, and yes, he still had mountains upon mountains of work to surmount, but the boy had the energy, the raw talent, the bravery, and the dedication to his stuff. Four hours a day every day working on combat after two extra hours playing Water Boy to the full knights and his teacher. And the boy never _once _did anything, except smile and say 'Yes, Sir Knight' or 'Yes, Arthur' and did as he was asked. Arthur just didn't have the heart in him to let the knights put him through the usual 'initiation-period.'

The worst part was; Arthur didn't know if the boy was unlimitedly stubborn or simply work-crazy to the extreme. No seven-year-old enjoyed getting the lights beaten out of him and being bossed around all day. Hell, his full-grown servants didn't enjoy that, and it's what they were _paid _for.

Arthur was a bit uncomfortable to admit…he was _ashamed _of himself (deep down somewhere) when he was around his squire, and it had taken him this long to realize that it wasn't the life-debt hanging over his head anymore, or the fact that he really didn't like full-on sparring with the boy (even if he was holding back—no less than their first tide and true spar with real weapons, which was quite a few notches compared to the arena-fight).

Though, Arthur would admit he liked having the boy around. When it was just he and Gal (as he'd permitted Arthur, now dubbed Artie, to call him), the boy was not afraid to throw down in a verbal sparring match with the prince as well. He was actually quite good for someone his age, and Arthur didn't have to tone down his intelligence as much as he thought he would have.

It was all…refreshing.

"Hey, Artie, working on your bored face for when your king?"

"Hmm? No, I was just thinking about this little inkling I have…You know, Gal, it's been very nice having you around, and no, not just as our slave."

Galahad grins. "It's been fun being here, Arthur. I actually have figured out by now that you're not as much of a jerk as you look."

"Ha-ha that was so funny I forgot to laugh." Arthur quips dryly, rolling his eyes.

"You just did, but, no, I mean it. You seemed like such a donkey-clotpole when I met you, but I guess I had to see good in you, after all, I saved your life."

Arthur chuckles as he lifts his face heavenward, thinking. "Yes, I suppose so…" He frowns. "You know, I never asked you before, but…why _did _you do it?"

"Come on, Arthur, you shouldn't joke about that. I would do it a million times over the exact same way, so—"

"I'm not joking, I'm asking you _why_."

Galahad stops smiling, his eyes dulling as he stands there, starring at the prince. "Because…Because, I…don't like it when people die. Plus…" He sucks in a breath, looking at Arthur contemplatively for a moment before saying in a near-whisper. "You're important."

With that, he leaves Arthur and the field behind for the day.

Arthur watches him go, his mind conflicted. For the past week, the prince had been entirely muddled on the matter of his squire and his squire's older brother, wondering every day he trained the boy if he was doing the right thing by refraining from telling his father about Merlin's magic. Every time he would wonder, his mind would flash to that day in the caves, and what Merlin said to him.

_I am not a monster, Arthur. I am a man…magic is only as good or as evil as those who use it; magic itself is not inherently evil. _

And then, in the dungeon, as he watched Merlin break and as he feebly tried to fix some of the damage, weak as it may have been.

_I never wanted it, never thought it was anything but a curse, but then Galahad comes along…He gave me and my gifts a purpose. I would do tricks for him, it helped me look after him sometimes, and I would do anything at all to see him just smile. He made me feel important. He not only accepted me, but was just blown away. I have always been a hero to him._

It was a constant struggle, but every time Arthur thought about the two brother's together once Galahad was revealed to be alive and the words Merlin spoke, it helped cement his belief in what he was doing, bit by bit, and he could be content with that for now, so long as Merlin gave no reason for suspicion or distrust. It would have to do.

Of course, he had always been skeptical of his father's views on magic, but never outright against them, and some ingrained teachings were hard to get rid of, so much so that he was still ready to draw his sword every time Merlin spoke to or walked past him as he waited to see that strange, golden hue envelop his eyes.

Arthur knew he was walking a very fine line between two dangerous fires, but he knew not which would consume him first, and which would turn out to be the lie among his heart and mind. It was simple madness, and a game of waiting.

He really, really hated waiting.

* * *

><p>AN: I know, kind of boring chapter,but, hey, it's Arthur-centric and a transition chapter. Oh, and for those of you who may be wondering why I had Arthur make Galahad a squire instead of a page like most boys his age would be, it's because all page boys are are servants of nobles from other noble families and A. Galahad isn't a noble, and B. Arthur wants to teach him to fight, not have him as a servant.


	9. Destiny's Path is Paved

Disclaimer: I'm still on hold.

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><p>"<em>Do you solemnly swear to govern this kingdom and its dominions according to the statutes, customs, and laws laid down by your forebears?"<em>

"_I do, Sire."_

_Galahad hid a yawn with his hand as he stood with the knights and someone cuffed his head. He looked up to see Leon smiling thinly at him, one of his eyebrows raised._

"_Do you promise to exercise mercy and justice in your deeds and judgments?"_

"_I do, Sire."_

_Uther took the scepter of Camelot's crown and held it before Arthur. "And do you swear allegiance to Camelot, now, and for as long as you shall live?"_

_Arthur grabs hold of the scepter without hesitation and speaks in a voice that is loud and confident. "I, Arthur Pendragon, do pledge life and limb to your service, and to the protection of the kingdom and its peoples."_

_Everyone claps as Uther gives Arthur a diamond-studded circlet, crowning him Crowned-Prince of Camelot. Galahad sighs in relief that the windbag ceremony is finally over. Royals really loved to talk, mostly about themselves, he could tell that much. Suddenly the windows shatter and many scream, the knights jump into ready positions, Galahad easily plucking his short lance from where it sits in a harnessing strap on his back while everyone, including Arthur, draws his sword, the longer one already held at attention at his side, since it's a good three feet taller than him. Everyone watched as a black-clad horseman on a black horse proceeded the assembly hall at a slow trot, his armor obviously having seen better days, though it did well in masking his face._

_Silently, the Black Knight threw down a decrepit gauntlet, and after a long, tense silence, one of Arthur's newest underlings, Sir Owain, picked it up. _

* * *

><p>Galahad still had no clue as to what to make of it, even as Owain fell, even as Pelinore fell, and now <em>Arthur <em>had accepted that…that thing's challenge. Merlin had all but tackled Galahad to keep him from being the one to accept it next, but, no, that honor had gone to his father. Now, he was holding Merlin's hand as they went once more into the bowels of the castle together to see that thing Merlin had talked to that spoke of destiny (he still didn't know exactly what it was because Merlin refused to talk about it).

When they stepped out of the darkness of the cave of stairs and out onto a ledge that beheld a giant, rocky chasm below them, Merlin let go of Galahad's hand and unpinned the cloth-wrapped sword from underneath the arm that wasn't holding his torch. Galahad, who'd used his long lance as a walking staff to void tripping down that endless staircase, grabbed his other lance from behind his back and stood at lax attention, waiting for something to happen.

Merlin looks up and Galahad follows his gaze, only for his eyes to widen as he sees something large and green swooping down towards them. Galahad screams and stumbles back, nearly getting knocked over by the torrent of wind blasted into their faces as…something lands on the rocks before them with almost cat-like grace despite its _massive _size, flashing a very large grin of giant, sharp, and numerous fangs filed to very intimidating points, it's yellow eyes swallowing them both in its sight.

"M-Merlin…what…what is that thing?"

"Calm down, Gal, the dragon won't hurt us." Merlin answers without looking back at his brother, though he smiles.

"D-D-Dragon?! You've got to be kidding me, Merlin! _Look _at that thing! Dragons are supposed to be beautiful and majestic and as big as a castle. This place may be big, but it can't house a dragon especially not one so…! Just…eww-looking. Wait, aren't dragons made-up in the first place?!"

The acclaimed 'dragon's' eyes narrow pointedly and it's nostrils flair. "Well, I may certainly not be the most handsome of my once-flourishing kind, but I am still a dragon, boy, and if you weren't so important to the future of Albion, I would eat you for such insulting words. And my name is Kilgharrah, thank you, not 'that thing' or 'the dragon'. Clear?"

Galahad stares, open-mouthed. "It talks…okay, so maybe…Kilgharrah here _is _what I heard you talking to, but…Alright, fine, I'm sorry for insulting you! Happy?" He snaps under the weight of Kilgharrah's gaze.

"My, you certainly are snappish. I wonder if perhaps you are the _wrong _son of Arthur."

"I don't want to be _his _son at all, but I am!"

"Alright, Gal, enough! We didn't come here to bicker with him!" Merlin finally intervenes with a sharp glance thrown at his brother, who merely huffs and throws down his weapons to cross his arms over his chest, glaring at the dragon for getting him yelled at.

Merlin turns back to the dragon. "I apologize, Kilgharrah, but there's something I need you to do."

If the dragon had eyebrows, he would have raised them. "And that would be?"

"I need you to make a sword, for Arthur."

Kilgharrah glares again. "Merlin, my powers are not a toy. Besides that, my kind's magic is extremely powerful, and therefore extremely dangerous."

"I know, but—"

"You do not know." The dragon is quick to refute. "The things I have seen over countless centuries would break your fragile, human mind and your spirit, and if you knew a fraction of my wisdom, you would not ask this of me. As you are, you may only guess and follow a leading light, young warlock."

"Arthur needs something that can kill the dead or he will perish in the fight with the Black Knight, and then I, and Galahad, the both of us will have no destiny! There will be no Abilon without him, not if he were to die now."

Here, Kilgharrah expels a sigh following a lengthy silence. "Let me see the sword."

Merlin quickly unfolds the cloth, pulling it away enough to reveal the blade before holding it out as an offer to the beast. Out of Merlin's hands, pulled by an invisible force, the sword rises above their heads and rights itself to stand up inches before Kilgharrah's nose, his eyes taking in every detail of the weapon. The dragon hums in approval, seemingly finished with his apparent inspection, before large, round eyes of a sickly yellow lock onto the two boys.

"Galahad Ambrose Pendragon," His voice is ringing with power, saying it slowly as if tasting the name on his tongue. Galahad's shoulders stiffen as his back becomes ramrod straight, his face stricken under the ancient being's gaze. "Answer me, young prince."

"Yes…uh…Yes, sir." The dragon chuckles in amusement at the confused look in his eyes as he says the automatically-programmed response, knowing he was unsure if that was the appropriate label to give someone who was not even human.

"Child, tell me, you are aware of the destiny yet to truly be borne on your still-young shoulders, the great responsibility you will one day be held accountable to, yes?"

Galahad gives a shaky sigh as an answer, his eyes giving a brief flash of pain. "Yes…I heard you and Merlin…that night. I'm to be the king after Arthur, the king of this Albion that's…whole, right?"

The dragon nods once. "So, tell me, would you like to one day wield more than Arthur's title for yourself?"

"No…I will be his son, but, outside of that…I don't want anything more from him. His blood is enough." The boy answers carefully.

The dragon lets a low hum with a peculiar, mysterious note rumble from his throat. "So you say, and that is a fine answer, but you will need more than simple blood to claim your birthright to the people, won't you? After all, you are illegitimate by birth and by status."

Galahad's gaze slowly travels to the floating sword, seemingly following the dragon's train of thought. "I…I don't want it…You said it has great power—that you have great power. We're doing this for Arthur; it should be for him…no one else."

Kilgharrah actually _grins_. "Well, it seems you are, if nothing else, appropriately cautious. Normally, I would agree with your sentiments, young prince. However, what of Arthur's legacy?"

Galahad frowns. Looking to the ground, his eyes lock on his discarded weapons and an idea comes to him. "What if you used magic on my lances too, but you…I dunno, sealed them or something?" He asks as he picks up his tailored fighting-tools. "I may be the one to succeed Arthur forever from now, but I'm still me, so why not use _my _weapons?"

"Seal them, hmm? My, perhaps you have more of a head on your shoulders than I thought, boy." Kilgharrah chuckles. "Very well, release them."

Soon, the two polearms float side by side next to the sword. Merlin pulls Galahad back by the arm into the cave's mouth for protection as Kilgharrah inhales and rears his head back. All three weapons are engulfed in a strange, white fire expelled from the dragon's maw, much to the brothers' fascination and marvel. When the flames vanish, what are left in their wake are miracles by sight alone.

Arthur's sword is now inscribed with engraved, gold plating on one side of the blade, bordered with shimmering gold along the hilt and guard while the blade's already pristine metal now gleams ethereally, it is reached for and grabbed by Merlin as it floats back to them when the brothers deem it safe enough to emerge, but Galahad's lances stay where they are.

Galahad's lances are transformed as well, but nowhere near similar in a way to Arthur's sword. Every inch of the once-sterling steel is burned to an ivory hue brighter than freshly-fallen snow, and the transformed blade's embroidered with white-gold, looking predatorily-sharp even from the distance.

"**Δύναμη μου εντολές σου** **, ενδυναμώνονται από χάλυβα και από την αναπνοή , λάβουν σοβαρά υπόψη τις δοκιμές για να έρθει. Ας το μικρότερο μονοπάτι αντιπροσωπεύουν τα εργαλεία που δίνονται, Cadfael. Ας το μεγαλύτερο μονοπάτι αντιπροσωπεύουν εκείνο που πρέπει να κερδίσει, Rhongomyniad. Δύναμη, σοφία, γενναιότητα, ας κάθε απεργία ανοιχτή περισσότερο η πύλη. Ας το πεπρωμένο να καθορίζεται από τη ζωή, και αφήστε τον εαυτό καθορίζεται από το αίμα.**"

Kilgharrah's voice is bursting with power once more, both piercing the darkness and filling the silence as the burnished lances begin to glow with enchantment.

"**Με αυτά, δίνω τα πλήκτρα για να αλλάξετε και Μοίρα. Αφήστε για ένα ανοιχτό μυαλό, μια αληθινή καρδιά, και ένα ευέλικτο ψυχή. Αφήστε σάρκα Του να είναι από χάλυβα σου και την πίστη του να είναι ο στόχος σου. Θα πρέπει να έχει γυρίσει από τα μονοπάτια, Εκείνος θα χαθούν. Θα πρέπει να έχει τα πόδια προς το τέλος, αυτός θα είναι ο άρχοντας της φυσικής και μεταφυσικής τομέα του.**"

Rather anti-climactically, the weapons lose the ethereal glow once the incantation finally dies on Kilgharrah's lips, though they are once again, not the same as before, and Galahad can barely breathe as he stares at them in wonder once they are returned to his side. His shorter lance is now decorated with criss-crossing lines of blood-red that wrap from one end of its shaft to the other like two long, entangling snakes. The longer one bestowed so as well, only with the pattern colored of gold. Galahad turns them over in his hands, only to gasp when he discovers the strange writing engraved on the other side of each of the weapons, both completely different from the other, both in the same inhumanly-gleaming silver as Arthur's sword's blade, and both completely framed by a deliberate, oval lapse between the curving lines of blood-red and bright gold.

"Kilgharrah, what do these inscriptions say?" Galahad asks, holding the lances out from his sides to show the dragon the writing.

"The sword has an inscription too." Merlin informs them, the question of his statement obvious.

The ancient beast before them chuckles in amusement as he re-settles properly onto the rocks before them. "The writing you see is of my kind's tongue, illegible to ordinary humans. The sword reads the name 'Excalibur'***** in your language, meaning 'Sword of the Golden Victor'. As for your weapons, young prince; the shorter one is called 'Cadfael'*****, meaning 'Battle Prince'. It supposed to represent the shorter side of your journey to becoming the king, with the tools you already have before you have begun, given to you by your father and his blood."

Galahad frowns very deeply at that. "Hey, hold on a—"

Kilgharrah is quick to silence him as he continues. "On the other hand, the longer part of the journey is what you have yet to gain through your own experience and learning, what separates you from your father. It is christened 'Rhongomyniad'*****, meaning 'Spear Striker', for you are to strike your enemies while remaining true to yourself and your beliefs."

Realization dawns on Galahad's face. "Oh…then thank you."

"Kilgharrah's eyes narrow as he fixes them both with a glare. "Heed my words, young warlock and prince; these gifts are not to be taken lightly. Excalibur was forged for Arthur and it will be used by Arthur alone. The same goes for your twin weapons, young prince, sealed from their true capabilities now they may be, they will grow as you do, in mind and heart. Be warned, for if any of these fall into the wrong hands, destruction is destined to follow, for Camelot as well as Albion."

They simply nod their heads, thank him for what he is done once more, and turn to leave with his words echoing in their minds, because that is all they can do.

* * *

><p>"What are you doing here, Uncle Gaius?" Gaius jumps at the voice, and whirls around to find Galahad standing behind him, starring at him with his arms crossed across his chest to hold something nearly as tall as he is close.<p>

Gaius is quick to compose himself. "I think the better question, my boy, is what are you doing here?"

Galahad shrugs. "I am Arthur's squire. I felt it was my job to keep my teacher company in his hour of need and help keep his mind off of what's about to happen."

"And what is that you are carrying?"

"A gift that I've got him; it's a good luck token and a thank you to him."

Gaius opens his mouth to say more, but is interrupted by the door they are in front of opening swiftly to reveal a very impatient-looking prince.

"What is going on out—Oh, Galahad, Gaius, what is it?"

"Sire, I—" Gaius is shoved aside by the younger visitor.

"Arthur, I came to keep you company. If you wouldn't mind, that is. I know you have to be going crazy with boredom."

Arthur's face melts into a grin. "Not at all, I would love some company, my squire. Come in."

Galahad easily slips past Arthur into his chambers before the prince turns his attention to Gaius. "I'm sorry, what is it you needed, Gaius?"

"I…um, oh, I've brought you a sleeping draught to help—"

"Thank you, but I won't need it. I have too much to prepare for."

"But Sire, this will help you to relax. You can't very well expect to fight tomorrow after no sleep, can you?"

"Once again, I appreciate it, but it isn't necessary, Gaius. Besides, I am not at all tired. Will that be all?"

Gaius bites his lip, but gives a short bow to hide his anxiousness as his thoughts flash to Uther. "Yes, my apologies for disturbing you, my lord."

* * *

><p>"I love Gaius, he means well, but that persistence of his must be worked on." Arthur sighs as he turns from finally dismissing the physician. Galahad turns from the window, looking at the immovable wraith, with a hum, walking to meet Arthur in the middle of the room while carefully holding the cloth-wrapped sword out to the prince. "And what is this?"<p>

"A thank-you gift and…also a token of good luck for your fight; you have been a better teacher than I could ask for, and I don't want to lose you, so I got you this."

"You got me a new sword?" Arthur looks peculiarly at the boy as he opens the cloth to reveal part of the blade and the sword's handle.

"Well…It's actually a family heirloom. It was my father's and Mum was sad with it around but was obviously never going to sell it, so I took it…It would be a great honor if you would use this during your duel, and, if you like it, it's yours."

Arthur swallows, looking into the boy's eyes, far too serious to belong to a child compared to the bright boy he'd mentored for the last month. "Galahad…I…I don't …I don't know what to say."

Galahad smirks. "Well, try it out first."

"But, if it's a family heir—"

"Yes, I'm going to want a sword that will never be used otherwise, me, the _lancer_." Galahad cuts him off with a roll of his eyes. That gets a chuckle out of Arthur before Galahad once again looks at him with his too serious eyes. "Go on, just test it out now, and then tell me you'll use it tomorrow."

Arthur sighs, his hands on his hips as he looks down at the inviting-looking weapon. "Alright, I suppose a few swings wouldn't hurt now, would they?"

Galahad grins. "There's my fearless leader, that's the spirit."

Arthur reaches down and pulls the sword free from its loose wrapping, admiring the blade as he holds it out in front of him. He hefts the handle in his hand a few times, leveling it out as if brandishing it threateningly at a foe, and turns it on its side in his grip to admire the cutting edge.

Arthur licks his lips. "Almost perfect balance, very lightweight, and the edge is the sharpest I've ever seen of a blade. Your forefathers had superior taste." Arthur turns it over so the other back of the blade is revealed, his brow furrowing. "What is this strange lettering?"

"The blade's name, which marks it as our family's possession, though I'm not sure what language it is; your guess is as good as mine on that one."

"Name…it must be ancient, and to be in such amazing condition…What does it say?"

"The sword is called Excalibur. Arthur, wield it with pride."

Arthur swallows again, his throat having gone dry, and nods once, resolutely. "I will, and thank you, Galahad for such a wonderful honor. It is an amazing gift, worthy of a king."

Galahad merely smiles, watching as Arthur turns his back on him and puts his leading foot forward. Arthur slashes the air with the sword, a diagonal-slash down, then a clean down-cleaving, and then an outward, gutting slash from the left. Despite how easy it seemed, Arthur is breathing heavily as he straightens, standing tall as he smiles at the fine weapon he holds.

"I know it and I will see many more battles to come after this one. I am sure of it." He says, more to himself then to Galahad.

"It brings me joy to know that. Thank you." Galahad says back.

The rest of the night passes quickly for the two.

* * *

><p>Inside an otherwise-deserted council room, Uther is not so pleased once Gaius delivers the news. "You were supposed to give him the drought! Arthur cannot be the one to fight tomorrow! He will die!"<p>

Gaius nods respectfully. "I am aware, Sire, but—"

"But what?!"

"But I was interrupted by my youngest charge. You would not expect me to carry out the plan in front of the child, would you?"

Uther turns slowly to face Gaius with a very dangerous look in his eye. "You mean Arthur's squire stopped you?"

"Yes, Sire, my apologies."

Uther growls like a lion. "That _boy_…"

"Please, Uther, he knew not what was transpiring, he merely showed himself at an inconvenient moment." Gaius says sternly, following his king's thoughts.

Uther pauses, looking at Gaius as if measuring his intentions for a long moment. "Perhaps, but should this happen again, old friend, I will not hesitate to _punish _him for his misdeeds, the fact that he is your charge and Arthur's squire be damned. I cannot have him interfering. Do I make myself clear?"

Gaius hesitates, but nods. "Yes, my lord."

* * *

><p>The sun shone bright on the clear day as it rose to noon in the sky, the arena packed and abuzz with uncomfortable, worried murmurs as glances were risked to the motionless Black Knight. Arthur came out, cape billowing behind him and chainmail and armor winking in the sunlight. He stopped a mere meter from the opposing side as a stray knight stepped forward to remove his cloak. Slowly, the Black Knight turned to face Camelot's prince as the blond young man glared death and drew his gifted-sword after securing his helm.<p>

"Are you prepared to pay for the lives of Camelot's men?" Arthur growled low in his throat.

"…" The knight said nothing, merely drew his sword. The two were given shields, standing tense as they waited for the starting-horns to blow.

The Black Knight is the first one to attack, going in for an absolutely brutal overhead strike which tangles with Arthur's shield. Arthur pushes him away, going in for an outward strike towards the face that is blocked by his enemy's shield. It goes on; blow after blow with the competition seemingly at its match from both sides. Arthur's charging, downward slash is met by shield and finds itself imbedded in the wood a few inches from the top. Arthur yanks it free with ease, only barely dodging the slash meant to open up his stomach while he was briefly defenseless. Arthur stumbles to the side quickly, trying to gain ground. The Black Knight throws his shield to the ground, causing Arthur's eyes to widen under his armor. The knight grabs his sword in a two-handed grip and hunches down into a charging strike.

Arthur only makes it a bit to the left before he finds the enemy-sword piercing the heart of his shield, only inches from his stomach as the shield did its duty as a barrier to slow it down. The prince is quick to release his shield taking just a few paces back while the Black Knight struggles to remove it from his blade. Arthur sees the opportune moment, as his opponent lifts his sword in the air, and goes in for the killing-blow.

Excalibur is buried to the hilt, slicing Arthur's opponent through like a gutted pig.

Arthur yanks as Excalibur free, stepping back as the enemy falls to his knees. In a blinding explosion of heat, smoke, and ashes, the enemy's body is suddenly no more, leaving Arthur and the rest of the audience to gap in shock while looking at the few intact skeletal-remains and the pile of ashes left in its wake.

From his balcony-seat beside Morgana, Uther's stone-cold glare searches out the boy Arthur claims to mentor, finding him on the sidelines, cheering and jumping up and down while his brother stares in cold fear, for a moment Uther meets Merlin's gaze, and the boy goes even paler.

* * *

><p>"Did you guys see it?! Arthur was all *vroom* and then the sword went *Kusch* and then that guy just went *BOOM*! That was <em>so <em>COOL! Did you see it?!" Galahad was jumping up and down along the floor, rehashing the battle for the tenth time that night.

"Yes, Gal," Merlin smiles and rolls his eyes from where he sits at the table with his nose in the magic book Gaius had given him. "We saw."

"Before you know it, I'll be big enough that _I'll _be doing stuff like that all the time!" As if to demonstrate in his excitement, Galahad begins jabbing and slashing the air with his lances, which have been wrapped in cloth from the blade down, to hide the noticeable change in them under the pretense of not wanting the shaft to get too banged up.

Merlin watches him, his smirk melting into a solemn frown as he turns from the book in his chair. "You're getting really good with those…" He whispers.

"Uh-huh," Galahad missed the tone of his brother's voice, or chose to ignore it as he focused on his form.

"Really good…" '_Before you know it, _I'll _be big enough to be doing stuff like that all the time,' huh? Where has that boy that used to dance like a chicken gone? Where's the boy that used to chase the bubbles I'd conjure for hours on end? He can't be trading that in for guts and gore and the thrill of a fight yet…He can't be. _

Merlin's frown becomes a tight line, his fist clenching as it rests on the tabletop as he remembers the day he'd burst in saying his dream was guaranteed to come true one day now. "Hey, Gal,"

"Yeah, Mer?"

"You, um…You aren't getting to ahead of yourself now, are you?" Merlin's eyes glow golden as he focuses on his brother's back.

_Please, let this work. _He thinks. _Please don't let him tell me he's too old for _this, _not yet._

"After all, the only way you can get where you want to go at the speed you want…is…if you can fly."

"Wha—oh, h…whoa…" Galahad's body begins to be gently uprooted from the ground, causing him to lose his grip on his weapons as they fall to the floor with a muted clatter. Soon, the boy is a few inches in the air completely off the ground, his surprise melting with realization as he begins to giggle. "_Oh_~ so _that's _what you mean. Well, this looks like a job for…"

"_Sir Flyer,_" Both of them says, and Merlin's grin is nearly breaking his jaw as his heart soars with his brother's dreams. "Ready, flying knight?"

"Ready, Council." Galahad immediately straightens his body like an arrow, sticking his arms out at his sides while Merlin lumbers up from the table, book forgotten.

"3…2…1…blast off!" Like cannon-fire, Galahad flies about the room while Merlin's eyes follow him, guiding his course to the music of Galahad's laughter. They make sure to stay away from where Gaius splits his attention between them and cooking supper, a faint smile on the old physician's face. "Faster, Mer, faster!"

"I can't go faster when we're inside, clotpole!" Merlin laughs.

"But this is too slow!"

"Well, then…" Galahad suddenly grinds to a halt exactly where he'd taken off, landing on the ground hard enough to get an 'Oomph' to escape his lungs. Merlin gets on all fours, the table about a foot behind him. "You'll have to burn it off with a good challenge."

"Ah! The Village Beast is attacking Camelot! You'll die here!" Galahad doesn't hesitate to get in on the game with as much corn packed into his bravado as possible. He charges at his brother from across the room, stops inches in front of the Village Beast, and lightly taps his forehead into his brother's.

"_No_~ he *cough, cough* got me!" Merlin falls over onto his side dramatically, pretending to hack and choke.

"It isn't over yet, foul beast!" Galahad immediately is on him, tickling him senseless as he clambers over Merlin like a human-jungle-gym.

"Ah-Hahaha-Gal-Gal n-no-Hahaha! G-Gal…s-stop it…p-please!" Galahad solves the problem of his kicking and thrashing by sitting on his waist, the small boy's legs on either side of him as he continues his assault.

"Never!"

"ROAAAAR!"

Merlin is suddenly bolting up and enveloping Galahad with his arms, yanking the boy off of his lap as he falls back to the floor while clutching him, and then flipping them both over so that the elder brother has the upper-hand. Galahad will have none of that, and the two engage in a rather comical wrestling/King of the Mountain match, each fighting to stay on top to tickle-ambush the other.

"Ah! Gaius! Gaius, _help_! He's got me!" Galahad cries for assistance once Merlin somehow grabs the boy and flings him upside down over his back like a sack of potatoes, quickly beginning to spin in place once on his feet with his prisoner of war.

Watching the two brothers, Gaius lets slip the matters of the day, remembering that these boys are just those during these days; boys, no matter what destiny has in store for them. That night, laughter could be heard from wards and guardian alike throughout the castle.

* * *

><p>AN: Aw~ I just had to do that; I haven't given Merlin a whole lot of brotherly-love, so I figured a moment in the spotlight like that would do some good.

Now, on with the notes:

**(1): **What Kilgharrah said was, "My power commands thee, wrought of steel and of breath, heed the trials to come. Let the smallest path represent the tools given, Cadfael. Let the longer path represent what must be earned, Rhongomyniad. Strength, wisdom, courage, let each strike more open the gate. Let destiny be determined by the life, and let self be determined from the blood.

With these, I give Him the keys to Change and Fate. Leave Him an open mind, a true heart, and a flexible soul. Let His flesh be thine steel and His faith be thine aim. Should He stray from the paths, He will be lost. Should he walk to the end, He will be ruler of the physical and metaphysical fields."

**(2): **Yes, I changed what Excalibur's engraving said. I did it because what it said _on both sides _was really stupid to me, and it gave me an excuse to add in the bit about the sword's name, too.

I think we all know the Arthurian legend, but I just want to say two things about Merlin's version that really peeved me. One, who could they _never _exclusively say the sword's name (the title of the episode **does not **count!)? Two, how come they also made it the Sword in the Stone? They _aren't _the same sword! The Sword in the Stone is Caliburn, The Sword of Choosing. Excalibur is The Sword of Promised Victory. _If _they are the same sword, Excalibur should **not** have worked for Uther, since it would only recognize _Arthur _as the Once and Future king. Changes for the sake of the plot, I can understand. This, I cannot. They also never named Mordred's sword, which is called Clarent…Okay, I'm done ranting now.

**(3): **Cadfael is a Welsh name, since Arthur is Welsh Mythology.

**(4): **Rhongomyniad is actually Arthur's spear from the legend. Said to have been originally crafted for the archangel Michael to use, it fell to earth before any heavenly-being could touch it. I found that really fitting for Galahad to use, since his name means pure. I also kind of modeled the look of Galahad's lances after those of Diarmuid Ua Duibhne, the first Knight of Fianna from Irish Mythology, about two hundred years preceding Arthur's legend.

Well, this is the longest chapter (5,400+ words!), and I think the best so far, but I'd like to hear what you guys think. I have over 4,000 views, so I know I have to be doing something right, right? But what is it?


	10. Father and Son

Disclaimer: I don't own Merlin or the cast.

**A/N: **The mistakes and reduced-speech of Galahad's lines are both deliberate and temporary to demonstrate his sickness.

* * *

><p>"<em>Is Galahad my son?"<em>

That one sentence caused Merlin's entire world to fall apart completely.

* * *

><p>Arthur snarled under his breath, tapping his foot impatiently as he waited in the broad daylight of the training field in the courtyard. His squire was over twenty minutes late for the training of the knights.<p>

"When I find that boy…" Arthur growled. "I don't have time to wait around for him all day. Leon!"

The scruffy blonde man turned on his heel from the group of recruits warming up. "Sire,"

"I'm going to find my lazy apprentice. It won't take long, I'm sure."

"Yes, my lord." Leon nodded as Arthur hurried past, radiating waves of aggravation. The crown-prince was a walking hurricane through the castle halls as he trekked to the physician's chamber, kicking open the door upon his arrival, Gaius's ire be damned.

"Alright, where is the—Good _lord_! What _died _in here Gaius?!" He automatically clamped a hand over his wrinkling nose as a pungent smell hit him, gagging.

A moan and a hacking, wet cough were his answers. The next thing he hears causes his heart to stop, a pitiful, weak, sobbing moan. "D—Dad…Daddy…!"

"Galahad?" Arthur's eyes widen and his body flies through the chambers without his consent the next instant. "Gala—!"

Arthur's heart catches in his throat.

The boy was tangled from the waist down in a mess of blankets on the floor, on his stomach, surrounded by a small pool of vomit. His breathing was loud, gasping rasps, while the eyes that stared at Arthur were glassy and shining with the tears that streamed down his face. Arthur takes two steps into the room, covering his mouth and swallowing his revulsion at both the sight and smell. Step by step, the prince walks to the boy, who had clearly been trying to drag himself to the door. Arthur doesn't think, just rips the boy from the blankets, picks him up and starts running, only stopping when he reaches the hall and firmly shuts the door behind him to get as much of the smell away from him as possible.

"D'd-dy…"

Arthur looks down at the child in his arms, and swallows the tightness in his throat. Galahad was paler than a sheet, but his cheeks and ears were beet-red, his body heat burned Arthur through his armor, and his hair and face were a mess of dried spit and vomit. He also smelled rather strongly of urine, but even that was more tolerable than the acrid stench of sickness and bile emanating from the room behind them.

"Galahad, where are Merlin and Gaius?" Arthur asked it slowly, softly, hopping that the boy was not completely out of his mind as he feared.

"Daddy…it hu'ts…m-make it…make it 'top…" The boy shook violently as he spoke, almost as if the effort of moving his mouth was too much, and Arthur's heart sank. He didn't have the heart to correct the child, so he did the only thing he could think of.

"We need to get someone to clean up that mess…then you. Let's see…" Without giving it much thought, the prince begins walking, shifting the dead weight in his arms so that he's comfortable not being jostled with the movement. "We'll need some new clothes, some washcloths and a pail of water, a bucket…ugh, why isn't Gaius or Merlin here?!"

"Merlin? He and Gaius went to visit the outlying villages. Was there something you—?"

"Guinevere!" Arthur whirls around with wide eyes, causing the maid's own eyes to widen in surprise.

"Art—my lord, I—"

"When did they leave?" Arthur doesn't give her time to finish, closing the distance between them in three quick strides.

"Just this morning…my lord. Merlin asked me to make sure Galahad was looked—" Guinevere looks at him like the deer on the sharp end of an arrow. She might have gone to look at the floor, but her eyes land on the body in his arms and she can't hold in a gasp, her jaw dropping. "Gal—"

"Is sick." Arthur finishes for her, eyes narrowing accusingly. "When was the last you checked on him? It's already 8:20."

"Just a half-hour ago, sire. He was still sleeping. Merlin said nothing about this—Th-They left a little after seven and said he'd already had breakfast, that he was a bit tired, but that was all."

"Guinevere,"

"I should have done more than just poked my head in. I should have known—"

"Guinevere!" The maid starts and blinks up at the prince, who sighs, speaking much softer. "It doesn't matter. What's important is that he's taken care of now." Guinevere nods mutely, eyes flickering to the boy as Arthur shifts his weight again. "I will move him to my chambers for rest; bring what we'll need there."

Gwen bows at the order, turning to hurry to the physician's chambers. "Yes, my lord."

Arthur nods in acknowledgment, a weight lifted off of his chest at the knowledge he was not left to do this alone as he turns to continue on his own way when a thought strikes him. "Guinevere, wait!"

Gwen stops and turns around. "Yes?"

"You, um, may want to hold your nose. Just…trust me." He adds when Gwen's brow furrows, stopping her from asking the obvious question. Gwen pauses, and then nods, and Arthur manages a small, brief smile before walking away, his conscience clear.

That doesn't stop his wince of sympathy at the sounding of a sharp intake a breath and a gasped 'sweet Mother Mary' behind him.

* * *

><p>Arthur paced back and forth from one side of the bed to the other, glancing at its sleeping occupant what must have been every five steps. It had been half an hour since they'd coaxed a spoonful of a light sleeping draught down his throat with a cup of warm tea and honey, and the boy had drifted off as soon as his head hit the pillow, but Arthur couldn't help but worry, let alone sit still.<p>

His hair was still damp from the bath Gwen and Morgana had given him, but he had new clothes and Gaius's chambers no longer smelled like throw up. Arthur had just changed the cloth on his forehead, but he was still on fire, his skin still pale, and his breathing, if even, was still raspy and congested. In short, Galahad was far from healthy, but the situation had improved by a small margin, and that was a small comfort to Arthur.

The prince simply had no answer as to the nagging question in his head; _Why?_ Why was he so worried? Certainly, he cared for the boy who was apprenticed to him. Certainly, Galahad had saved his life, but Merlin had also saved his life, and Arthur had saved Galahad's when Merlin saved his own. They were friends, brothers in arms, they had experienced a mishap or two, yes, but none of it explained the tightness in his chest, or the constant buzz of his mind's incessant activity, or why he'd insisted on taking care of him, putting the child in his own bed no less, when he was sure to catch whatever awful thing he had. Arthur simply did not know, and, if he were honest, it frightened him that he didn't know, that he cared _this _much.

Galahad gave a groaning, sorrowful moan in his sleep and Arthur's body jerked painfully with his heart. That was the only warning before Galahad's eyes flew wide open and he lurched over the edge of the bed with a single, violent retch. Arthur dived for the bucket nestled by the bedside and against the leg of the nightstand, bringing it underneath the boy's chin before any vomit could hit the floor. Arthur's free hand found itself holding back Galahad's hair, his shoulders wincing with every retch, each one sounding as if it would bring the poor thing closer and closer to death with their violence.

There was hardly anything on his stomach, and even when all of the clear, burning acid had been rung from him, Gal still dry heaved, each one followed up by a few, body-shaking coughs and the tiniest traces of bloodied spit. All of it caused Arthur's own stomach to churn, but what hurt the most was the shredding of the broken pieces of his heart with every sob that wracked the child. The minute he had begun throwing up, tears pooled in his eyes and down his face, whimpers and sniffles clearly heard between each painful heave.

It really was no wonder to Arthur that the next words from his mouth were; "D-Daddy…_hurts_…it hurts, it-it hurts…i-it _h-h-hurts_…!"

Galahad collapsed face-down into the sheets and cried as much as his probably-aching throat would allow, everyone a pitiful, desperate plea.

Arthur bit his lip and felt burning behind his eyes. He didn't know what to do. He didn't know how or why Galahad hurt, but let alone how to fix it. He did the only thing he could even think to do in the tangled mess that was his mind, something he was so very scared to do.

A hand rests on Galahad's back, and Arthur realizes with fright that his entire hand covers nearly half of it, so he quickly jerks it back for fear of hurting him like he had done so many times before now. Only, he can't. He can't because, before he can even realize it's happened, Galahad's own small hand shoots out and grabs him by two of his fingers.

It was a desperate and clumsy move, but one that causes every muscle in Arthur's body to tense and his lungs to stop functioning with one last, sharp intake of breath.

"D-Daddy…h-help…help me." Those dark-brown eyes, bright and glassy, were boring into his blue ones, and something inside of Arthur broke.

In the next moment, Arthur felt fire searing his body through his favorite red shirt, but he didn't notice. He didn't register the shaking of the burning boy in his arms or the rapid heartbeat and ragged breathing pushing against his own chest. He didn't mind the feeling of something moist, cold and soft pressing into his cheek or the incredibly feeble grip of two almost-convulsing arms around his neck. How could he when but a single, marveling thought was going through his head?

_He's calling _me _Daddy? He—no, no it has to be the fever talking. After all, he's burning up. He's afraid and weak; of course he'd want it to be a parent taking care of him, and that's what he's thinking._ Arthur thought to himself, shaking his head as if to be rid of the thoughts.

That had to be right, but it was baffling to the prince that for all of the times he had heard that name, that calling, in the past—what had it been; two hours? One?—while, it had been for him. He couldn't help but wonder if, maybe, the boy did look at him as sort of a father-figure, a role model, maybe. After all, he was the boy's teacher, and a friend in the least. Was he similar to Galahad's father? Did they look or act at all alike? Was it simply admiration for Arthur himself or was the boy entirely, simply mistaken in his not-right mind?

"Shhh, Gal, shhh. You're alright." Someone was whispering, and Arthur realized it was him. The boy was still sobbing into him, soaking his shirtfront. "I'm here, Gal, I'm right here. I know."

"D-Daddy…"

"Don't worry, Gal, it'll go away soon. You just have to sleep."

"No…Daddy, no. No…no…no. Daddy…" The boy shook his head against Arthur's chest, but it was so weak that he may have been simply nuzzling into the prince's neck, and Arthur holds him just a little tighter.

Arthur's own body shudders with a sigh, and he closes his eyes against their burning, searching for something to say.

Thump. Thump, thump. Thump. Thump. Thump, thump. Thump.

_*****__"A mountain pass, dividing two lands. Two kingdoms were lining for war."_

His own heartbeat filled his ears, steady and strong, and words filled his mind and spilled from his mouth to the rhythm of his own battle drum.

"_The East and the mid-land were shield-wall to shield, and the Aelthmearc stood at the fore."_

Arthur had no idea what he was saying, but he could hear the lulling softness, the nuances of his own voice against the rush of blood in his ears.

"_The king of the Mid-realm saw they were few, and sent his own forces to aid. So Ealdormere, bold, with the scarlet unfurled, joined hands with their cousins that day."_

He didn't know where the words were coming from other then a memory. And that was it. It took him an eternity to realize that he was—trying to, anyway—singing.

"_And we saw the bright grace, and the light on their faces; two cousins united at war._

_As the Aelthmearc prince took the field with his kin, a princess of Ealdormere, bold, embraced her south cousin with joy in her eyes and wonder for all to behold._

_Two princesses, noble, walked hand in hand as two princes fought side by side._

_And the Aelthmearc, Ealdormere, warriors all, proved cousins could share the same pride._

_And we saw the bright grace, and the light on their faces; two cousins united at war._

_And we saw the bright grace, and the light on their faces; two cousins united at war."_

The prince had no idea why, it was simply the only thing he could think of. He never remembered being sick himself, so he didn't really know what people did to make sick people better. He thought he was mad for agreeing to this, but…

_You can't leave him alone with someone else. _Look _at him! _A voice in his mind hissed. _He's your responsibility, yours to take care of, and that's that. Be a proper man and take care of the boy._

"Daddy…love you…'M sorry…'bout training."

Arthur froze. Training? But, if he was—that couldn't be… "What are you talking about?"

"Wit…Wit the knight….people. Missed it 'n I did…mean to go, Daddy. You 'n me…we supposed to fight…to-day." He wasn't expecting an answer—the boy sounded half-asleep, but that sent him reeling.

"Galahad…what's my name?"

"A'thur, Daddy…"

"Why are you calling me that?" He asked, barely above a whisper, as his heart crashed like a lead weight to the floor, feeling as if a bucket of icy water had been dumped over him. Galahad knew who he was…If he was in his right mind, then…

"…'Cause…I'm yer son. Don't'cha 'member…Daddy? The…The girl with dark eyes and pretty, light hair?"

"…Girl? What on earth are you…talking…about, Gal?" A memory played before his eyes, guilt worming in his stomach at the mention of dark eyes.

_He remembered her. The pale-white of her blonde hair, falling in a wave of tight, perfect curls down her back and the warmth of her dark, deep eyes. Uther exiled her. He brought shame in that drunken stupor. He tried to forget it, but he still remembered her. It's why he was allowed a one-drink minimum at any feast; to ensure that the prince of Camelot would never be found shamelessly laying with another lowly servant. _

"_Count your blessings nothing came of it_, boy_." Uther had spat at him. "I would not have a bastard in this House." _

But how would Galahad…?

"Bubba, tol' me…said you don't remember me. I was a…a…accident."

Arthur feels his eyes widen. "An…accident?"

"Mm-hmm," If he wasn't face-first into the crook of the prince's neck Arthur doubts he'd have heard the hum, for, as if his limit of strength and attention is exhausted, the child falls asleep in Arthur's arms.

"An accident…I…but…"

* * *

><p>Arthur can only sit and think in the accompanying silence, but his mind only goes in circles. Galahad lies once more nestled into Arthur's sheets, and the prince allows his mind to be consumed with thoughts, much like the fire consuming the hickory wood, whose flames dance lifelessly to Arthur's eyes. He knows not how much time passes, nor does he care.<p>

"Arthur!" Merlin bursts into the prince's chambers, looking a right hot mess, breathing like he's run a mile. "I…I heard—"

"Galahad is ill, yes." Arthur replies tonelessly, eyes not so much as flickering from the crackling hearth. "Don't worry; Guinevere has been helping me look after him."

Merlin immediately begins to try and stumble through an apology. "I-I…I mean, I'm sorry…I _knew _he should have…should have never slept on the floor…and I…I-I…"

"Where is Gaius?"

Merlin blinks dumbly at him, mouth struggling silently as he worked to process an answer. "I-I his chambers, but…Arthur, _thank you_." He sighs in relief, a goofy grin spreading on his face as he switched his gaze to his sleeping brother.

"Merlin…" Arthur sees the look and grimaces, pain flashing across his face due to the knowledge he now tentatively possesses. He takes a shaky breath, opens his mouth to try again, and simply shakes his head. There was only one person who could give him answers, and Merlin would probably try to lie through his teeth to protect the bond he and Galahad share anyway. So, the prince says nothing, with steel in his eyes and a heavy heart, only getting up and keeping a brisk pace as he strides from the room past a confused, scrambling warlock.

"Arthur?" Merlin hesitates, looking between the bed and the vacated doorway as he debates with himself. He sighs and runs after the prince. "Arthur!"

The blonde ignores the warlock at his heels, kicking open Gaius's doors for the second time that day and striding to the startled court physician with more confidence than he felt he had.

"Gaius,"

"My lord?" Gaius looks at him concernedly, regarding him with a careful expression.

"Is Galahad my son?"

The very air freezes with the thickness of the ensuing silence. Gaius stiffens while Merlin's heaving chest suddenly stills and the color drains from his young face as he stands in the doorway behind them.

"Where…did you hear that, my lord?" For the first time in either Arthur's or Merlin's memory, Gaius's voice wavered, sounding oddly small with the glaring note of fear compared to his normally-unshakable composure.

That right there was enough for the prince, shaking hands moving to grip the sides of the workbench in an effort to steady himself as he sighs. In regret or relief, he knew not. "He told me."

"Sire—"

"He's been calling me 'Daddy', but he knows who I am and even apologized for missing training this morning!" Arthur protests vehemently, unwilling to be rebuked. Didn't they realize he'd tried to deny it himself with that exact same logic? "He _knew _about the serving girl!"

Neither of the three dare speak nor move nor breathe. The world's presence presses down on them all, only for the silence to be broken by the old man's bone-deep, weary sigh. Gaius buries his face in his hands, resting his elbows on what little space was available on the cluttered table.

"He says that _you _told him, Merlin, and says that he was an _accident_…Tell me, was there a woman that came to your village? A pretty girl with white-blonde, curly hair and dark-brown eyes?" Arthur sighs himself, somehow finding the strength to offer the explanation for the guillotine of proof hanging over their heads.

"I…" The warlock looks with watering, skittish eyes between his mentor and the prince, words tarrying on his tongue. "I don't…"

"The boy's mother was only exiled after giving birth to him, Arthur." Gaius answers, his voice quiet from holding back his dam of fast-rising emotions, as quiet as either prince or warlock had ever heard. "After the child was begotten, Uther had no choice but to confine her away from the people's eyes. However, the king had no intention of allowing either of them to stay."

"So…it is true…" Arthur feels the strength leave his legs, his knuckle-whitening grip on the table the only thing keeping him standing. "He—Galahad…he's my son."

"I'm afraid so." Gaius answers gravely. "Since you now know the truth, I suppose it is only right that I return your memories to you. It will be easier than having to explain everything."

"My memories…? What are you—?"

"It is best if you see for yourself, my lord."

Arthur feels a calloused, clammy hand brush his forehead and the world melts away.

* * *

><p><strong>I'm falling. It's too dark. Somebody help me. Help me!<strong>

He was screaming, and he couldn't remember why. The memories passed his eyes in a blur, but he saw each and everyone.

"_You are throwing your life away, Arthur!"_

"_He is my son, Father."_

**It was my choice. **

_He still remembered her…Uther forbade contact…exile…thirteen…_

**Eight before the year's end. He had her hair and her eyes. How did I not see it?**

_He remembered the fear. He saw the boy go down, and it was his knife in his shoulder. He remembered the instinct and the feeling of dread that dropped into his stomach like a lead weight while Galahad fell to the ground with a bleeding temple._

**I hurt my son.**

"_Yes, young prince, you did."_

**I lost my son...but it wasn't my choice. **

"_How would you like to be my squire?"_

**I didn't know…I just **_**didn't know**_**!**

"_Know that you are making the biggest mistake of your life, Arthur."_

**It wasn't **_**my **_**choice.**

The last thing he feels as light burst into his eyes was the phantom-itch of his son's body being ripped away as his arms fell limp.

* * *

><p>Uther looked up from the documents spread out before him as he sat across from Leon in the no longer otherwise-deserted council room.<p>

"Arthur, I take it your squire is feeling better?"

The fully-armored prince stands as still as a stone, his labored breathing the only answer received.

Uther's brow furrows, completely misinterpreting the look of murder in Arthur's eyes. "Is something the matter, Arthur?"

"Why did you do it, Uther?" Arthur's voice is low through his teeth, dangerous.

"Excuse me?" Uther's own voice is tinged with a threat as he slowly lumbers from his seat and carefully stares at his son.

Arthur's fist comes down on the table with a harsh bang, a snarl tearing his throat as he _glares _at the king. "I know what you did to my son! What you _tried _to do!"

All color and anger leave Uther's face in favor of a hardened mask of indifference, hindered by the new paleness of his skin, though his voice remains perfectly even. "What are you talking about? Whose son?"

"_MY _son!" Arthur all but roars. "The son you ordered Gaius to take from me and kill! The son you had ripped from my memories! The _bastard _you wanted dead because of a drunken one-night fling that was your own fault!" Arthur is panting, radiating waves of anger and death.

Uther does not blink or move his eyes from Arthur, addressing a wide-eyed Leon as he starred at the prince. "Leave us."

The man's head whips around. "Sire,"

"Now! No one is to enter under any circumstances."

He can only nod and leave the room, firmly shutting the doors behind him. As soon as they are alone, Arthur draws his sword. The sword _his son _had given him.

"Arthur—"

"Be quiet, you rat bastard."

Uther grits his teeth and musters his strength for a blistering shout of reprimanding. "I am your—"

"You are not even a man!" Arthur hollers over him, nostrils flaring as his eyes shine with tears of anger. "You claim to act for honor and nobility, yet you have slept soundly for eight long years with the blood of an innocent newborn boy on your hands. You have slaughtered hundreds of thousands who posses magic, including women and children! _You are nothing but a monster_!" The tears spill down his cheek and shake the prince's voice, now barely a whisper. "You care not for this kingdom, or even for me…You only think of yourself and your _useless, damnable _pride."

"Where is the boy, Arthur?"

Arthur actually smiles, a gleam of malice and knowing in his eyes. "You will not touch him. I will die before I allow you to take my child from me again; this I swear on my honor, something you know nothing of."

"_Arthur_!"

Arthur's face becomes colder than ice. "I had hoped… All of those years ago, I had _hoped _you would understand what I felt for him. I thought you would know the love a father has for his child, unplanned or not, burdened with _tragedy _or not, I thought that you would know what it means to be thankful for the miracles that can come from the most horrid situations, but I now know that I was wrong…so _very _wrong about you, Uther."

Uther looks as though his son has slapped him. "I loved your mother."

Arthur ignored him, taking one then two steps forward, brandishing his gleaming sword. "For the crime of treason against the crown of Camelot according to this kingdom's laws, for the attempted assassination of a member of the Pendragon family, I, King Arthur Pendragon, herby decree that you are stripped of your nobility's status and title. Your punishment for this crime, on penalty of death, is to be carried out immediately."

Uther takes a step back, his blue eyes wide with fear and disbelief. "You cannot do this…I am your father…I am your _king_!"

"No longer do I consider you a human being worthy of the dirt under my boots, let alone a king. You stopped being my father the moment you denied my own right to be one to my son eight years ago."

Uther continues to retreat as Arthur continues to advance. "Arthur, _please_!"

Arthur charges with a roar, drawing his sword back over his right shoulder to run Uther through with a two-handed grip.

_Clang!_

Arthur's sword scratches along the edge of Uther's blade in a guard-lock, the father drawing his sword just in time to stop the son's strike, and as the clash of metal rang out, the council room's doors flew open with a strong gust of wind and a knocked-back Leon.

"Arthur, _stop_!" Merlin's voice desperately rang throughout the chambers, and Arthur didn't have to turn around to know that the boy's eyes glew gold.

"He has to die, Merlin!" Arthur answers as he pressed all of his weight into his sword in an attempt to overpower Uther

"You will be no better than him for it, Arthur!" Morgana's voice came next, throwing Arthur off enough for Uther to knock away his blade, which Arthur quickly parries with a blow, and then two, three and four, all of which Uther only barely manages to frantically deflect. It is only when they are once again locked in a guard again that he hears Morgana's voice clearly again. "-thur, stop, please!"

"You've always hated Uther for his senseless slaughtering of those with magic, Morgana! Why defend him now?!" Arthur shouts back, glaring death into the very depths of Uther's soul.

"Because! Do you really want your son to see his father have his grandfather dead?!"

Arthur's heart stops beating, and in the undisturbed stillness, he hears only one thing. "Daddy…? A'thur…?"

Arthur gasps, struggling to breathe after releasing the breath he didn't know he'd been holding while his vision blurred with a new onslaught of trickling tears down his face. Meanwhile, he hears footsteps, brisk and solid, and turns to find Uther's rigid back to him, starring down a desperate-looking group of Morgana, Merlin, Gaius, and Gwen, the maidservant holding none other than his son in her arms.

"So it is you…you damn _brat_." Uther snarls, low in his throat. Merlin is openly glaring at Uther, taking a step in front of Gwen with an arm reaching forward to shield her and Galahad from the king, and it's that which snaps Arthur from his numb stupor.

"No!" The prince, quicker than anything, has Uther's back pressed against the wall, the sword swiftly knocked from his hand, and Arthur's sword's edge pressed to his throat. "I told you, you aren't going near him, scum."

"Arthur, please, do you really want him to see this? Do you want to live with the guilt of killing your own father for the rest of your life?" Merlin pleads, the gold of his eyes still not fading. "Think of," He swallows but keeps his gaze steady. "…Your son."

"I…" Arthur's breathing is ragged, quick, as he fights the cascading tears, the grip on his sword wavering so much that the tip dips to Uther's chest as his arms shake. Excalibur falls to the floor with a clatter, Arthur's arms gone limp at his sides. "I…"

Uther steps forward, a hand resting on his son's shoulder as he stares into the eyes he'd given the boy. "Arthur—"

_CRACK_

Uther's back hits the wall with a thud, his legs going out underneath him as he blindly covers his now-broken, gushing nose from the solid, side-long punch from Arthur. The blonde grabs him by the shoulder in an iron-grip and growls, driving his knee into Uther's stomach, watching in satisfaction as Uther fully-crumples to the floor and stepping back.

"Leon, arrest him immediately. He is not to have visitors, medical care, or food and water until I give the word. Morgana, Guinevere, Merlin, take Galahad back to the physician's chambers and watch over him. Gaius, come with me to my chambers. You have worked under Uther for longer than I have been alive and have knowledge of all of his crimes, all of which I need to hear and document."

Arthur feels numb, nothing but numb. His eyes dry as if the tears never existed, his breathing still heavy, but even. He walks away, walks out of the chamber, walks away from the shouts, and his thoughts and feelings that he's left behind. He didn't stop to see if Gaius was following him, wasn't thinking about the minutes and hours and days to come.

He only thinks of his son, of his and Uther's mistakes, of every minute of every day he had spent with him, never knowing the truth.

It hurts and he can't scream, because screaming won't help him through the pain, because he deserves every single, searing stab of guilt through his heart and he knows it, but that doesn't change how much it hurts.

He remembers his son's words. _It hurts…help me._

Only no one will, because it's his burden to bear.

He only wished someone would have told him how much it would hurt to bear it.

* * *

><p>AN: Okay, so this chapter did not turn out **at all** the way I had planned. Originally, this was supposed to be a short little one-shot-y chapter about Arthur and Merlin working together to a sick Galahad and a situational-ironic troll on Arthur about Galahad calling him Daddy when under the spell of a fever.

I was originally stuck on the true Chapter 10 of this story, which I won't spoil for you because it will be happening, and just thought I'd post something short and sweet about father/son to let you know I haven't forgotten about you. I've also told a few people who've asked about it that the big reveal was supposed to be in four more chapters, but then…this happened. This just…kinda sprouted wings and flew off into the sunset, honestly. (Really, it's the longest chapter yet by 120+ words.)

Well…it doesn't change anything _big_, I guess. Sure, I'll have to make some tweaks to my main plot-outline, but nothing really majorly stress-worthy.

Oh and for those of you wondering about Galahad's 'girl' comment when he made his reveal to Arthur, he put two and two together about the differences in his and Arthur's appearances and just assumed what he didn't get from Arthur, he got from his mom. He's just terrible at explaining it in his fever-addled mind's state. And yes, Gaius let Arthur remember her but not Gal, for the simple reason that it was the easy way out of explaining to Arthur why he was never allowed to drink very much in the future, and as a guilt-reminder to him so that he would be more obedient to Uther due to the shame and regret he felt for it. Why Arthur remembers her so easily, you ask? He may (or may not) still carry a little of a guilty flame for Mystery Mom, which will _definitely _come into play later ;)

So, the big question; what do you all think about it? :) Please review!

Oh, and before I forget:

**(1): **The song is Heather Dale's "United at War", which I do not own or profit from. Look it up on YouTube and just imagine Arthur half-trying to sing the melody, I dare you not to either laugh or 'aw'.


	11. What Will Come

Disclaimer: Merlin isn't mine, a bitter but real truth.

* * *

><p>Arthur sighed wearily as he trudged with heavy steps beside Gaius, on the way to visit his son. Their discussion had been a long and exhausting one, but all of Uther's crimes and those he could relate regret to about them were recorded. The list could be used as the noose to hang the dethroned with, it was so long, and Arthur almost wanted to do just that for all of the sickening acts on said list.<p>

He needed to see his boy, that much, Arthur knew for certain.

When he entered the chambers behind the newly-reinstated, unofficial Court Sorcerer (until Arthur convinced Merlin to be his immediate successor, anyway), the soon-to-be king was immediately ambushed by a tearful Morgana.

"I'm so sorry all of this had to happen, Arthur. Gwen and I were the first Galahad told his secret to, and we wanted so badly to tell you, but…I wish you had not found out this way." She said as she pulled back.

Arthur managed to offer her a brief, thankful smile. "It's alright, Morgana. There are many more, many less desirable ways this could have come to my attention. How are Gal…and Merlin?"

Morgana's weak return-smile fell. "Galahad's fever has broken and he's managed to keep down a bit of broth and some medicine for about an hour, but he still shakes with chills and has difficulty breathing. Merlin…well…"

"Yes?" Arthur prompts as she goes silent.

"He…hasn't taken everything so well."

Arthur's brow furrows, his frown tightening. "And where is he now?"

Gwen steps up with a nod when Morgana looks to her silently for help. "He had to step out for a bit, my lord. Things…didn't end well when he left, I'm afraid."

"He made Galahad cry, didn't he?"

Morgana winces and Gwen suddenly finds great interest in the floor, the lady of the two being quick to jump on an explanation when she sees the deadly scowl on Arthur's face as his mind jumps to conclusions. "He didn't yell, though it might have been easier to fix if he had. Galahad could use some…cheering up, nonetheless."

"Yes, and who better to do the cheering up than his father?" Arthur says dryly, shoving past the two while he still fumes.

When Arthur enters the guestroom of Gaius's chambers, a pair of dark-brown eyes traps him in their depths. The eyes of a guilty child plead for forgiveness. Galahad looked much healthier as he sat, supported by a few pillows, on the cot, though he was noticeably trying to hold back tears.

"Hi there, Gal…How are you doing?" Arthur spared a comforting, if strained, smile as he walked to the bedside and he looked upon his boy, hands carefully balanced on his hips.

'Bad." He answers, studying his hands, lying uselessly folded in his lap. "Merlin's hurt pretty bad, 'cause of me…"

"It's not your fault, and there shouldn't even be any blame. It wasn't a bad thing, Gal. Maybe Uther's actions were, maybe that you knew and didn't tell me before, or told Morgana before you told me, but that you told me you are my son is in no way a mortal sin, understand?"

"But—"

"I'm not going to take you from Merlin, if that's what he fears." Arthur interjects, rolling his eyes when Galahad simply nods, still refusing to meet his eyes. The soon-to-be king sits on the edge of the bed with a sigh, rubbing a hand over his face. "Merlin and his mother will always be your family. I want you to know that, Gal. Do you know why?"

"No…" To emphasize his point, the boy shakes his head, looking up at Arthur from under his bangs.

"Really, now, Gal?" He snorts at the sight of the boy's sly smile. "Fine, make me say it, why don't you?"

A smile tugs his lips at the bubbly giggle from Gal, surprised when he finds his arms reaching and drawing him from the covers and into his lap. Arthur finds the boy curling into his chest, his own fingers threading through his wheat-blonde locks, and his heart warms.

"Did you want me, Daddy?"

Arthur blinks at the suddenness of the question? What kind of a—_"I was a…a…accident." _

The older blonde sighs, hugging the boy closer to him still. "I wanted you, but your grandpa didn't. You were an accident, yes, but that never changed the fact that I had a responsibility to you and your…first mother. Still…Uther just didn't see it my way, and he, unfortunately, did something about it."

"Oh…What was my first mommy like?"

"She was…beautiful. Warm, sweet and shy. I suppose that's where you get it from."

"But I'm handsome!"

Arthur laughs. "Yes, and you're also hard-headed, determined, and strong, like me. You aren't afraid to throw a punch for what you believe in, be it fists or words, and you can sure take them, too. Confident, sure of yourself, but at the same time, you're humble, caring…You have a good mix of us…That's why, no matter how much I hate it, I think, in some way, Uther made the right decision for me."

"Huh?" Wide, dark eyes blink at him with an open mouth.

"I—Listen, Gal, the past few hours have given me a great deal of time to think about this, and believe me, I have. If I'd raised you, you would have turned out drastically different, I'm sure of it. I like you just the way you are, even if it cost me a good eight years of your life for you to be that way. You needed a mother…a real family, and I was just some snot-nosed brat."

"I didn't have the foggiest clue how to be a father, but all the same, I thought I was. I was determined to raise you, and make you my heir one day somewhere in the back of my mind, but, that night, I wasn't focused on the future…or the past. I picked you up and held you, looking down at you as you were sleeping. You're cheeks were rosy but your skin was as white as the fluff of your hair…we were so similar in some ways, but different in others, and I was grateful for that. When I held you, my chest swelled with love and with pride, because, accident or not, I _made _you. Do you understand, Gal?"

"I…I think so. Daddy?"

"Yes?"

"Are you glad…to get the chance now? I do love you, Daddy, but I know…it's new for you. I've had a couple months to get used to the idea…and you just found out. I'd get it if you just wanted to make me prince and be done."

Arthur's face twists into a confused grimace, carefully thinking about how to answer that while his eyes bore into the top of Galahad's skull. On one hand, his son's logic was sound, but his conclusion was a bit unfair to them both. Was he even paying attention when he gave that long speech?

_He doubts himself. _The voice in Arthur's head was back. _He doesn't know that you love him just from words, dummy. Sure, you care about him, he knows that, but love is different._

Before Arthur can open his mouth, the door to the room opens to reveal Gaius's head. "Sire, the emergency council meeting you called will commence with your arrival."

The heir apparent of the throne sighs from the depths of his soul, but stands with Galahad still in his arms. "Very well, let me put Gal to bed and I'll be along shortly."

The elderly physician nods and disappears behind the closed door once more. Arthur turns, freeing an arm to pull back the covers of the cot before gently landing the boy in the sheets. Galahad whimpers at the loss of his comfortable spot, causing Arthur to smile as he tucks the blankets under his chin.

"Now, now, Gal, I'll be back…" A thought struck him and his smile widens. "And I'll bring something for you back with me. How does that sound?"

"A present?"

"Mm-hmm," The boy's face lights up as if someone lit a candle behind it and he immediately bolts upright, only for Arthur's gentle but solid hands on his shoulders to push him back down, the father's voice dripping with warm amusement. "None of that, now, Gal; you need to rest."

"But Daddy~! I love presents!"

Arthur can't quiet bite back a snort of laughter. "Everyone loves presents, son. Just close your eyes and go to sleep. By the time you wake up, hopefully, I'll be back with it, okay?"

"Awww! Dad!"

Arthur simply shakes his head, reaching a hand forward to ruffle his naturally-unruly hair in reply. "I have to go to the council meeting to announce this whole mess to the court, then, I might be able to talk your brother into having common sense, if I can find him."

"Oh, he might be with Killer." His father looks at him with his eyebrows raised in question and he squirms shyly, perhaps realizing his mistake. "I mean…Kill-gar-ah…the dragon under the castle."

"Your brother talks with the Great Dragon?" Arthur asks it calmly, conversationally.

"Well, yeah," Galahad nods. "They are both magic."

Arthur closes his eyes, finding himself chuckling behind a smile before he says, dryly, "Of course. Goodnight, Gal."

Arthur turns to leave the room, opening the door before his son's drifting voice calls him back. "Daddy?"

The crown-prince looks over his shoulder. "Yes?"

"Will you be king tomorrow?"

Arthur stops, chewing on his answer and running a hand through his hair. "Uh, well, I don't know. I was hoping that you and I could have a double-ceremony when you're better, but it really depends on how well the council takes the…news, I suppose. Well, the nobles, anyway."

Galahad hums. "Mm'kay. 'Night Daddy."

Arthur smiles softly. "Goodnight, baby boy."

* * *

><p>"<em>Gal, look Gal, you ready, huh?" An excited, eleven-year-old Merlin cooed to his infant-brother, the ten-month-old sitting with him on the floor of their cottage's kitchen.<em>

"_Ahhh," He cooed in response, and Merlin covered his giggles with his hand. _

_The raven-haired elder closed his eyes with a smile on his face, snapping them open to reveal golden irises as he slowly reached out his hand. The spoon lying absently-placed on the kitchen table wobbled and levitated in the air, and the brothers followed it with their eyes as Merlin dragged it to the other side of the room._

Dong

_The spoon hit the side of the silver pot hanging on the crockery-shelf above the sink with a sweetly-ringing, deep note._

"_He-ah~" Galahad squeals and claps his chubby hands, his grown-in two front teeth on display with his wide grin causing Merlin's own smile to grow._

Dong-ding-ding-dong pink-pink ding-dong-ding

_Pots, pans, and graters, Merlin hit everything on the shelf with the floating spoon and quickly developed a rhythm from the different sounds it all made. It wasn't long before he felt something that made him smile, and he looked over beside him. Sure enough, Galahad was scooting his hips clumsily from side to side on the floor, his chubby hands held awkwardly held to his chest so that his elbows stuck out at his sides, and his shoulders working them up and down and bumping lightly into Merlin's ribcage on one side._

_Merlin fought valiantly against his giggles to keep his focus as his brother preformed his chicken-dance to the music. Ever since they had visited the village-roost for eggs a month ago, Galahad had begun imitating a chicken as it settled into a tamped-down nest of straw with its wings flapping._

_Needless to say, Merlin found it adorable and hilarious at the same time._

_On shaky legs, Galahad stood, managing to stay upright _and _keep dancing his chicken-dance._

"_Oh, yeah, Gal? You really want to shake, huh?" Merlin quickly got to his feet and danced along with his brother, Merlin simply standing in place and swaying his hips with his hands balanced on them._

_Suddenly, Galahad stopped dancing. Still standing, the near-toddler shot out in front of his brother with the clunky, lopsided steps of someone befitting his age. His _first _steps. Merlin was so shocked that his magic faltered, causing the spoon to crash into the colander on the shelf. The resulting, harsh sound compared to his normally-light taps was enough to snap Merlin from his shock._

"_Gal, wait!" Merlin's quicker and more coordinated steps helped him step up and catch his brother by the back of his shirt. The warlock in training managing to stop him mere inches from running into the sink's basin stand, and a second later, avoid getting hit by the falling colander and spoon._

_The resulting crash coupled with the sudden motion of Merlin pulling on his shirt was enough to startle Galahad. Unable to handle the change of direction as the boy tried to back up, his feet gave out under him, but Merlin managed to switch gears and prevented his brother's fall…or, at least, soften it with his own, bony physique. _

_All the noise had Hunith dashing into the kitchen in time to see her boys tangled together on the floor. "What's going on, Merlin?"_

"_Mommy, it's incredible! Galahad just walked!" Merlin explained with his child-like enthusiasm as he half-sat up, one arm around Galahad to prevent him from spilling the rest of the way to the ground. With a little help from their mother, the boys got separated and onto their feet, Hunith holding Galahad up with his arms above his head._

"_Really, now?" Hunith asked, and Merlin gave a bobbing nod. "Well, then, why don't we prove it? Merlin, could you step back, love?" Merlin stepped back until his back hit the back of a kitchen chair. "That's perfect, love. Alright, Galahad, walk to Merlin." Without another word, Hunith released her youngest, gently nudging him forward with her knee._

_Galahad seemed to be a fast adaptor, for he walked in a straight line and barreled forward into Merlin's unprepared arms in under a minute, head-butting his big brother's chest on impact hard enough to get 'Oomph' as a response._

"_Well, I'll be." Hunith said with hands on her hips and lips tugged into a small grin. "Good boy, Galahad. You did a very good job. Mommy's proud of her big boy."_

_Galahad just looked up at his bog brother, who had his arms around him, and grinned. He must have deemed that day a day of first somewhere in his growing-brain, because the next thing Merlin heard was his brother's first word._

"_Mer-win!"_

* * *

><p>Merlin was his little brother's hero from that day since, and Galahad, in turn, his entire world.<p>

"Finally, I've been _looking _for you, _Mer_lin."

The warlock doesn't look up from where he shivers with his arms resting on the balcony as he looks up at the starry sky. "Don't bother, Your Highness; I've already started packing."

Arthur's brow furrows from behind him. "Packing for what?"

"As if it isn't obvious…but, who am I to contradict the _king_?" Merlin scoffs.

Arthur shrugs, ignoring the venom in Merlin's voice as he steps out onto the balcony from in its doorway, his arms crossed. "Are you going to be gone long?"

"Don't pretend as if you care, Arthur." He hisses.

"What are you talking about?!" Now, Arthur feels the anger bubbling to the surface. "Of course I care, _Mer_lin! You are my—"

"_No you __**don't**_!" Merlin whirls around, revealing the still-fresh tears, their tracks freezing on his angrily-twisted face. "How can you stand there and _lie _to me when you are taking away one of the most important people in my life _without batting an eye_?! There is _nothing_ for me here, not anymore."

Arthur blinks, angry that he was right about Merlin's thoughts. "Are you mad?! I'm not taking Galahad away from you!"

"Of course you are—!"

"No I'm—!"

"You are just as bad as Uther!"

The silence following Merlin's shout is deafening. Arthur's entire body tenses with death in his eyes, and Merlin glares burning hatred at Arthur.

"I am nothing like that man." Arthur growls through gritted teeth.

"You take children from their families because of the blood they are born with, of course you are." Merlin whispers back.

"He's my _son_!"

"Exact—!"

"But he is _your _brother!"

Merlin's breath is jerked from his body as Arthur takes one step towards him at a time, looking at him with a mix of anger and pity wrapped in a perturbed frown. When they stand only inches apart, Arthur continues. "He is your _brother_, and I could never take him from you. I have already told Galahad that. You and your mother, the both of you did what I couldn't do for him, even if he had stayed with me. You have made him who he is…a better job than I could ever hope to live up to. I know there isn't much I can do to make up for it, but I have already made arrangements to set up your own quarter's right across the hall from Galahad's new room, which are down the hall from mine."

Merlin stares at him. "You…"

Arthur arches an eyebrow with a cocky smile tugging his lips. "Will that be acceptable for you, Merlin?"

The warlock trips over himself babbling. "I…I-I…I…yeah, yeah," He nods, head bobbing. "Sure."

Arthur laughs. "Good, I would hope so. Come, you must be freezing out here. "

"Yeah, it is pretty cold at night, even in summer." Merlin nods, already moving to follow Arthur into the castle's warm and inviting hall.

Arthur stops and looks at Merlin with a cross between a sheepish and kind of accusing smile. "Oh, and, before I forget, I'd like it if you would introduce me to the dragon sometime. Galahad says you to get along pretty well." Merlin stops in his tracks, a deep frown marring his features, and Arthur sees the thoughts running across his mind through his eyes. "Oh, come now, Merlin, I already know your biggest secret; this doesn't hold a candle to it. Besides, I'd have found out one way or the other eventually."

"I suppose so." Merlin doesn't look at all convinced.

"If it makes you feel better, I plan to make you my chief advisor for all magical affairs once the ban has been lifted. I'll start work on that once things settle down a spell."

The warlock rolls his eyes. "And how is that supposed to make me feel better?"

Arthur smiles a smile full of dazzling teeth. "Because, now you have two reasons to stay in Camelot."

* * *

><p>The lake of Avalon sparkled pristine and clear as its waves lapped upon the shore of the Isle of the Blessed. Its lady's home, however, was not so beautiful. Inside the bowels of the decrepit castle, below the water, Nimueh smiled at the scene before her in the mirror of murky water of a brother taking care of his sick sibling later that night.<p>

"How sweet…so young, so pure-hearted. The future looks bright, does it not?" She turned her head, and beside her a translucent image of a hooded-figure grimaced.

"The boy means nothing to me, my lady." A woman's voice growled from beneath the cloak. "Regardless of what he means to Albion, I wish he had never been born."

The Lady of the Lake tsked and shook her head, looking back to the image of the blonde-haired child with a genuine, soft smile. "Arthur Pendragon is his father's son. He can never understand our kind. We need a ruler who may rule both the magical and mortal planes, someone among them but of our blood, so that one day what is left of our people can flourish, no longer fearing execution and free to practice their gifts. Starting with this boy, the name Pendragon will gain a new meaning to those of magic."

"You _used _me to get that boy! He is nothing but a reminder of the sins I committed as your lowly, mindless _puppet_!" The hooded-woman yelled, her image flickering violently with the surge of emotion.

Nimueh's smile turns into a devious smirk, her eyes flickered gold and the projection was completely stable. "Who better than you? This not only gives me what I want, but you a precious connection to your desires as well. Or have you changed your mind about _her _too?"

"That is not the matter at hand! I thought you said that you could kill Emrys! Even you agreed he is a danger to us, despite his connection with the boy!"

Nimueh glares, her smile deadly and thinning. "We cannot kill Emrys outright; it would turn our prince against us. We cannot harm anyone close to him directly, lest our plans fall to ruin. The true Albion _must _be realized, regardless if Emrys lives for now or not."

"But—"

"Silence, child." Nimueh spoke softly, almost conversationally, and the woman fell silent immediately. "How fairs the second among them?"

"He grows stronger by the day, my lady. We will have no need to worry about his role."

"Excellent," Nimueh chuckled. "He will make a great ally, but only if Arthur rises and falls in due time." The High Priestess waves her hand and the image of the brother's morphs to that of a golden-haired king working out his frustrations alone in the courtyard under the blanket of the night. "Excalibur is indeed strong, but…Cadfael, Rhongomyniad…fufufu, perhaps a test of the boy's strength is needed next."

Beside her, the cloaked-woman smiles, a snake's spiteful, plotting smile. "And should the child die protecting his foolish father, my lady?"

"Morgause," Nimueh glares at the woman and her smile falls. "You are to bring out the power of his blood, nothing more."

"And I will do so, my lady."

Nimueh chuckles once more, a parent's amusement with their incorrigible, stubborn child. "I know… Believe me, Morgause, you will see the greatness this child possesses one day, and you will be proud for the fruit of your loins."

Morgause snorts, her image moving to lower the hood, along her wave of blonde girls to cascade freely as she presents a face of polite, detached interest, dark-brown eyes devoid of resentment. "A new chapter is beginning for Albion, Lady Nimueh; my part has simply been played."

Nimueh simply smirks, waving a hand to rid the image of Galahad from the water, only for a sleeping Morgana to appear.

"And rejoice, for you will have your reward very soon, child."

* * *

><p>When Arthur returned to Gaius's chambers, Galahad was still soundly asleep.<p>

Smiling, the prince walks on careful feet to the bedside, and places the gift on the nightstand. Opening the lid of the wooden box on its hinges, Arthur leaves, the haunting but gentle melody of his mother's music box filling the space of his absence in his son's peaceful dreams.

After all, an eye for an eye, blood for blood, and a family heirloom for a family heirloom.


	12. NEW STORY

I don't know if you guys heard, or have seen it yet, but the story that won the poll, 'Son of the Dragon', has both been posted and updated. Give it a read!


	13. The Sins of a King

Disclaimer: If I owned Merlin, it would have been more historically-accurate, namely there would have been no Uther.

**A/N: **Real chapter this time, I promise! First, I've got two reviews that I can't reply to but would like to address.

**Kim: Can you make this merthur?**

You have been the second person to ask me something along these lines, and while I will NOT deny that there IS Merlin/Arthur chemistry on-screen, I have NEVER liked this pairing and will NEVER do a story with it. It isn't that it's slash or a boy x boy, I just can't picture these two **together **in my mind. To me, it's just bromance, and that's how I write them.

**B29morgan: Great chapter! But I didn't understand one thing; if Arthur freed magic, what's the problem with Nimueh and Morgause?**

Very good question. The answer is that, yes, Arthur has confirmed that there is good in magic and good-hearted sorcerers, but that doesn't change that there is still that other side of the coin. Like Arthur, Uther once was willing to trust in magic, hence, we have our favorite future-king, but he got hurt and then forever turned ignorant. The simple truth is that Nimueh and Morgause fear Arthur would repeat his father's behavior should something similar happen; "Arthur Pendragon is his father's son."

Then, there's also the issue that magical-people are still people, and while they can govern themselves, now that Arthur has begun work on lifting the ban, once it's gone, these people will have to deal with being re-integrated into normal society with normal people after over twenty years of isolation. They'd need the guidance of a ruler, but if that ruler doesn't understand them, Arthur lifting the ban is really, in short, an unstable, pointless move.

Galahad, however, has grown up raised around magic with Merlin, and, as revealed, has magic himself. He can rule both sides, as he understands both kinds of people. So Arthur is really only laying the foundation for his rule (not that Arthur won't do great things himself).

I hope that answered your questions, but don't hesitate to tell me if you have anymore.

* * *

><p>As the trumpets blew, people shuffled along the castle's steps and guards stood at perfect attention as the sun slowly rose above the rooftops. A sea of red capes parted as knight after knight bowed in the packed throne room, full of lower-townsmen and servants and nobles and the castle's staff. Standing to the right of the king's empty throne was the royal-archbishop donning the luxurious ceremonial-robes of a richly-colored red, gold, and brown. Beside him were two of the representatives of Camelot's oldest noble Houses, each holding two gold-trimmed throw pillows; one which held a large, decorated crown, the other which held a plain, small circlet.<p>

Everyone's eyes turned as the large double doors opened to reveal the future-king and prince, everyone eager to get a glimpse of the promised son that had been the talk of the town for the last two weeks.

Arthur was dressed in his finest armor and a brand-new cape of flowing red with golden clips. The young son's hair was tamed in a very professional braid as he wore a white linen-shirt with pearl buttons, a three-tiered, cascading-center collar, and sheered long sleeves that spilled over his wrists, swallowing his hands to the knuckles. Stiff, black trousers with a polished leather belt and a shining belt buckle of a sterling rose, shined, black-leather boots, and a red, gold-buttoned vest over-top the decorative shirt with a golden dragon stitched over the heart completed his dress, the shirt collar's ruffle serving as a throat decoration. His own mini-version of Arthur's cape was clipped to his shoulder with the standard bronze clips and flowed behind him as he walked beside his father, their steps perfectly in sync with each other's.

Galahad stopped at the bottom of the steps in front of the throne and stood at attention like the guards while Arthur proceeded up them, kneeling before the throne as the bishop stepped forward.

The bishop's voice was booming, deep, and slightly raspy with age. "Will you solemnly promise and swear to govern the peoples of Camelot according to their respective laws and customs?"

Arthur's voice rang with clear conviction as he answered. "I solemnly swear so to do."

"Will you, to your power, cause law and justice, in mercy, to be executed in all of your judgments?"

"I will."

The crown-bearing noble steps forward to the bishop's side and the bishop slowly raises the crown off of the pillow and over Arthur's head, just as slowly bringing it down as he speaks. "Then by the sacred laws vested in me, I crown you, Arthur, King of Camelot." The crown is a perfect fit, blending well with his golden hair. "Arise."

Arthur immediately gets to his feet, but takes a slow breath before he turns to face those gathered, his face a careful mask of blankness. Leon, his second in command of the knights, is the first to speak.

"Long live the king!"

Everyone echoes, including his son, once, twice, eight full times does the sea of voices ring out with swelling pride and support to proclaim their allegiance. Then, Arthur raises a hand, and the room falls absolutely silent, waiting to hear his first official proclamation as the king.

"Apprentice-knight Galahad," He booms, his voice not losing its practiced, professional edge.

"Sire," Galahad calls back in a quieter voice, tone similar to his, still at attention.

For the first time during the entire ceremony, Arthur smiles, and it is one of pride and love. "Come."

Galahad nods once to the softly-spoken command, and, with a grace and ease that can only be natural, has ascended the stairs to kneel by his side with his head bowed slightly in respect, his hand over his heart. The circlet-bearer next steps forward, the bishop takes the head-ornament and carefully hands it to Arthur, who holds it before him while looking out to address the crowd.

"With the powers of my kingship, my first official act is an appeal of the economic-socio-status laws restricting legitimacy of marriage and conception due to titular standings and differences of class between any two citizens of Camelot from here on forward. Camelot's legally of age citizens will hereby be free to marry whomever they choose from this day on under the First Arthurian Reformatory-law. As stated by the second Arthurian Reformatory-law, any children conceived either within or outside such a marriage will be considered the heir of both of the spouses' or partners' families. The question of legitimacy depends solely on the father's verbal or written acknowledgement of the child, including but not limited to the signing of a census or other birth registration-document."

There is a thunderous burst of harsh applause and booming cheers and ear-splitting whistles. Arthur waits for the bulk of the noise to die down before once again signaling for silence.

"In light of these new laws, I, King Arthur Pendragon, acknowledge full legitimacy of my sole child and eldest son, Galahad Ambrose Pendragon, born on the night of December twentieth, eight years ago, and conceived on the night of my officially-granted status of a legal adult of Camelot. I hereby crown him my heir apparent and the new Prince of Camelot until the day he comes of age."

Arthur carefully places his childhood-circlet on Galahad's head, smiling down at his son as the sound of applause crashes like a wave of rolling thunder. "Arise, Prince Galahad."

Galahad is on his feet with his arms thrown around Arthur's legs in an instant, and it takes Arthur a moment, after returning the hug, to steer his son to stand beside him with a hand resting on his head without also disturbing his new ornament of office. Father and son bask in the glory and admiration, as well as each other's presence. Both know this is a day neither of them will forget.

Among the entire sea of faces, one proud brother's grin stood out as the biggest and brightest.

* * *

><p>"Ugh, Prince Galahad this, Prince Galahad that! If I hear that one more time, I'm goanna explode!" Galahad sighed, tangling his fingers through his hair as he walked alone in the halls. He'd finally managed to escape all of the attention at the reception feast. "Prince Galahad, you're so handsome! Prince Galahad, I bet you'll be just as strong as our father when you grow up. Prince Galahad, no wonder you're such a good fighter! Kill me, now, <em>please<em>!

"Now why would I do that, child?"

Galahad jumped with a startled cry out of his skin, looking up to see a beautiful woman with skin as pale as fallen snow, perfectly-formed lips painted crimson as blood, and eyes like an icy lake of winter framed by elaborately-styled, cascading black curls, wearing a dress as red as her lips.

Galahad blinked, then gulped, and shook his head. When he was finally convinced the woman he was positive wasn't there a moment ago was not an illusion, he gathered the courage to speak, averting his eyes from her with his cheeks dusted red.

"H-Hi…I, um, didn't see you there… M-May I help you, miss?"

A laugh like rich silk danced into his ears, the beauty bringing up a hand to daintily cover her half-smile once the chuckles ceased, her eyes looking at him warmly.

_My, he's smitten with me at first sight? How adorable, and here I thought he fancied his aunt._ Nimueh thought to herself. _Perhaps…I could use this to my advantage?_

"Don't be shy, sweetie; I'm not going to bite." To prove her point, Nimueh smiled sweetly. "But I do need your help, come." She crouched slightly, beckoning with a finger for him to come closer.

"Do I…?" Galahad eyed her with a mix of wariness and curiosity, something tingling in the back of his mind as an old memory fought to reach the surface of his consciousness. "Do I know you, miss? You…look familiar…I…" Galahad gasped as everything clicked. "Kara!"

Nimueh's smile shattered like glass. _I'd hoped the poison would have erased his memory of me. This is not good._

Galahad, unaware of her thoughts, decides familiarity is safe enough grounds for approach, a bright smile on his face. "Thank you; you helped me save my daddy and I never got the chance to say that."

_Well, I suppose our fun must come to an end. _Nimueh hums, a nervous little smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. "Well, I didn't want Arthur to die. After all, it would ruin your destiny, my sweet little Galahad." She straightens proudly, a hand over her heart as the boy's face melts in confusion and tinges red at the address. "But my true name is Nimueh. I was simply in disguise to protect my identity."

"Why?" Galahad tilts his head, idly scratching the top of it.

Nimueh looks at him sadly, yet her eyes harden with the bitterness of the memories. She sighs, but bends low enough to be able to take both of Galahad's hands in her own, like two friends sharing a secret. Galahad's eyes dart from their hands to her face a few times, but ultimately remain locked on her own blue pools.

"Because, Galahad, Uther kills anything with magic if he finds it in his kingdom."

"W-What?" The boy goes as white as a sheet, his thoughts traveling at light speed to his brother. "Kills…them, b-but…"

Nimueh silences him with a finger to his lips, the other hand gently stroking his cheek with its knuckles. "Shhh, I know it's hard, but why do you think that grumpy dragon is locked away far beneath the bowels of the castle, hmm? He's kept as an example."

She watches as those dark-brown eyes grow even darker with hurt, confliction, and fear. "But…Nimueh, I don't under—"

"No one does, dear, that's simply his way. All because of…that incident…"

"Incident?"

Nimueh looks around at the deserted hall around them, not a soul in sight, and shakes her head. "Not here; the walls may be listening and you can never know."

Galahad blinks, head sweeping the area as he chews his lip and eyes studying the carpet before bringing his gaze back to her. "Well…where then?"

On the inside she smiles, but eyes are shinning with concern and care on the out, her voice filled with both hope and desperation. "There is a place, far from here, my home. If you truly wish to know, would you be willing to go with me?"

Galahad doesn't hesitate to nod. His eyes suddenly steeled and face serious before melting just a little with insecurity. "Just make sure we're back in a little while, okay? If someone knows I'm gone, I'll be in trouble with my big brother and my daddy."

Nimueh chuckles softly, a hand rising to gently cup his cheek. "What a good boy. Of course, it won't take long; I promise." He nods, face suddenly eager, and she laughs again. "Good. Now, close your eyes."

He does, and Nimueh's eyes flash gold. *****"Beatae notam fac mihi viam in insulam."

* * *

><p>The King of Camelot's stony eyes burned into hers through the helm, knights all circling her warily, holding her at sword-point. The feast's guests were all panic-stricken.<p>

Five knights gained, five knights lost, all in a single night. Morgause smiled at the delicious irony as she threw her gauntlet at Arthur Pendragon's feet; they had everything to fear, after all. He eyed her warily, his face blank save for that caution that danced in his eyes as he bent and swiped the metal glove from the floor.

Beside Arthur, Emrys starred at her in confusion, with a deep seed of fear, in his dark-blue eyes. Morgause's only bitterness at seeing his face was that it was not _that boy _who should be beside his father.

"I accept your challenge." Arthur snapped her from her thoughts. "If I am to face you in combat, at least do me the courtesy of revealing your name and face."

Morgause smiled underneath the helm, reaching under it as the retractable-clasps undid and freeing her head from the confining contraption. She shook her hair loose and opened her eyes to stare flatly at the shocked face of Camelot's newest King. She could feel the slightest bit of hatred causing her eyes to burn on the inside, though she did not allow it to show as the few fragments of _that night _that she could remember swept past her.

"My name is Morgause."

Beside Arthur, Emrys had gone paler than a sheet. Well, just perhaps, she could kill two birds with one stone in a single night.

* * *

><p>"You can open your eyes, Galahad."<p>

He did, but they quickly saddened at the sight of the near-barren land and decrepit castle before him, the air shrouded with thick fog. A shiver ran up the young boy's spine. "Nimueh, where are we?"

"This is my home, love, the once-proud Isle of the Blessed." Nimueh said, looking down at him with a frown at his reaction to the land.

"Isle…I think I read something about that in Uncle Gaius's books. Wasn't this the…heart of a religion about magic?"

Nimueh smiles to sadly, sighing as she turns stoically to look at the slopping, decrepit stone palace. "Yes, the Old Religion, Galahad; the religion that everything and everyone whom was of magical lineage practiced long before you were born. This was once where only the highest members of the order, called High Priestesses, all resided, protecting the two most sacred relics of our art. Sadly, I am one of the only two left, and the other has gone to travel the land right now, preserving our culture wherever she goes while I maintain the functionality of this place and our dying people as best I can. She acts as my eyes and ears."

"Oh…so you live in this lonely place, all by yourself?"

"Yes, I do." She answers quietly.

"Don't you have family?" She shakes her head. "Friends?" She shakes her head and Galahad looks at the crumbling dirt beneath his feet, dispirited and quiet. "Aren't you…sad?"

This earns a sigh from the woman. "Yes, sad, bitter, angry…I think it is best for me to be alone, though."

Galahad looks at her, tears in his eyes as he sniffs. "Why?"

"So that way, no one can ever harm me again, directly or indirectly." She answers, her voice turning cold as she remembers Uther murdering her family, her mentors and her students, and her friends, all because of his own ignorance.

Galahad blinks away the tears burning his eyes and bites his lip, looking for something, anything, to look at instead of Nimueh and her lonely, reflective home. His eyes spot an old, tall apple tree just peaking out of the surrounding mist, a ways down the shore across from where they stand. He looks between Nimueh and the tree, seeing the priestess lost in thought with her eyes glazed over and empty. His fists clench at his sides at the look in her eyes.

_No one_, not a single person, no matter what they've done or who they are, deserved to be that lonely.

His mind made up, the young prince takes off sprinting for the tree in his sights, gartering Nimueh's surprised attention as his footfalls kick up the loosely-packed earth beside her. She goes to call out, but closes her mouth and she watches, genuinely curious, as the boy easily swings himself onto a low-hanging branch and proceeds to climb the old tree with what can only be a practiced ease. The boy picks two of the biggest, juiciest apples in his reach and carefully tucks them to his chest with one arm, the High Priestess finding it amusing as she watched him struggle on tiptoe to reach his prize. He climbs down with little difficulty despite only using one arm, never glancing down, and runs back to her with a second trail of dust and a triumphant smile.

"Here," He pants slightly, holding out one of the fruits to her with a giant grin. "Would you like to eat with me?"

Nimueh blinks at him, but reluctantly reaches out and takes the apple. Galahad grins brighter, immediately falling into the dirt and adjusting to sit cross-legged. He looks at her expectantly, setting the apple in his lap, as Nimueh continues to stare at him.

_What is he trying to do? _She wondered as she slowly settled herself on the ground smoothing her skirts over her knees as her legs were set to the side of her. Galahad nods, raises his apple in a _toast _to her, and takes a small, crunching bite from the plump morsel. It's after his third bite that he realizes she's not eating, and looks to her with a question in his eyes, his eyebrows arched softly.

"I…don't understand—" She begins, only to be cut off by the boy.

"What's not to get?" He asks. "This is a meal between friends so you can say you aren't sad anymore. Plus, I'm hungry; I didn't eat during dinner because _so many people _wanted to talk to me!" He rolls his eyes and groans for emphasis.

Nimueh just continued to blink at him. "So…" _I'm not sad anymore? "_I don't think you understand, Galahad; I—"

"No, I get it; you lost all your loved ones, so you think by being all alone in some faraway place, no one can get close to you, and so no one else can hurt you by hurting them or them hurting you._ But_, that's dumb." She goes to interject, her anger flaring, but he holds up a hand to stop her, and his next words earn him cold, dumbfounded silence. "Listen, you can't live your whole life all alone. The whole point of living is to enjoy life and love and make friends and leave somethin' meaningful behind. So, starting right now, you are not alone anymore, b'cause we're friends! Alright?"

This brings a sad smile to the priestess's face, and, to the boy's surprise she shakes her head. "You are of purer heart than I had thought, my child, but you will surely come to revile me as the tale I must weave ends."

To her surprise, those dark-brown eyes stare at her with a sort of defended determination. "We'll just see about that."

* * *

><p>"You cannot face her tomorrow." Merlin repeated for the fifth time as he paced in Arthur's chambers. "She killed five of the knights, and you have only just become king. I understand you're a better fighter than most but-but this…" He continues, shaking his head and shrugging. "It's too risky…and very odd. I mean, coming to you the day of your coronation? Don't you suspect that she might want something…more than just a duel?"<p>

"Why is she here…?" Arthur whispers, eyes glued to the fire, mouth hidden behind his clasped fingers.

"Exactly! What quarrel does she have with you? Do you know?"

"Uther banished her…"

"Well, then why didn't she—?"

"I thought I would never see her again after that night…I thought she was only a serving-girl, but a sorceress? Was I really drunk, then? Or…did she enchant me?"

"Arthur…What are you talking about?" Merlin stills, looking up from the window he glanced out of, where Morgause was practicing, as his eyes lock on the slumped shoulders of his lord, Arthur's hands cradling his head of mused hair.

_Galahad… _A deep seed of fear constricts Merlin's heart. Ever since he'd laid eyes on that woman, he couldn't stop wondering if…

"That woman," Arthur replies, voice purposely above a whisper, though clipped. "Morgause, she is Galahad's birth-mother."

Merlin's heart drops. "You can't mean…"

"I fear she may have come here to reclaim him, perhaps killing me in the process."

"You think she's a sorceress? That's ridiculous; Gal doesn't—"

"How else could she have known that I am not only the new king, but that I suddenly have an illegitimate child who I have named my heir? Uther sent her purposefully beyond Camelot's borders, into Cenred's kingdom. That's why, when I first learned of the truth, I asked if you saw her in your village."

"Perhaps you are mistaken, my—"

"I would never forget her face; it is the only memory of my son's conception that Uther allowed me to keep. He made it look like nothing had come of that night in my mind, which is why I never recognized Galahad, not truly…" He trails off shaking his head, his voice going quiet again. "…I should have seen it; I had some…feeling he was familiar but I never could place it. I likely never would have if he never told me."

"I still think you are mistaken about her being a sorceress." Merlin says just as quietly, breaking the tense silence that follows as his eyes are boring into the back of Arthur's skull. "I taught Gal from the only magic book my mother possessed, I used magic around him constantly, I even tried to directly bring out any power, but he never showed any sign of aptitude for magic."

Arthur snorts. "You were a child, Merlin. You probably didn't know what you were doing. We need to get Gaius to try it to say for sure."

Merlin licks his lips, fear leaking into his voice. "And…what will you do if he actually has magic?"

Arthur glares at him from over his shoulder. "Nothing will change. I will love and accept him, no matter what."

It is quiet again before Merlin says, "Are you going to tell him about Morgause?"

Arthur looks off to the side defiantly. "I don't know."

"Are you going to fight her?"

"I don't know."

Merlin shakes his head. "This isn't right, Arthur."

"I know."

* * *

><p>"No, it isn't right!" Galahad crushes his apple core in his hand, jumping to his feet and throwing the remains into the water surrounding them with a shout of frustration. "How could he do that?! Why?! It's not every wizard's fault his wife died! One wolf eats a sheep; you don't kill the whole pack!"<p>

Nimueh looks at the fuming child as he paces before her like a caged animal with a blank stare. "Are you saying he should have killed me?"

He stops, a contrite look flashing across his reddening face as he looks to her. "No; you said it was the balance, right? That to gain a life, somebody's gotta die?"

Nimueh nods. "That is the law of the universe."

"Right; it's the same with ordinary people, too. You kill the murderer, pay the mourning…err, something like that. Only, in Grandpa's case, you can't take it out on the universe when somebody dies. …Grandma's death was…in a way…natural. So, no one should be to blame for it."

Nimueh smiles a small, surprised smile. "I'm astounded you call that man your grandfather. Especially considering his personal grudge for you."

Galahad frowns. "I know…he didn't want Daddy to have me, because Daddy…Arthur was too young and all. But…I don't hate him for that."

Nimueh's eyebrows arch. "Oh?"

Galahad gives her another of his bright grins. "Yeah, if he didn't, I'd of never met my mommy and big brother!"

He sees rather than hears Nimueh sigh as she smiles softly. "I see." Her gaze switches to an almost thoughtful, but searching, look. "But, what of the other side of the coin, Galahad? Surely, you cannot ignore what he has done."

Galahad looks forlorn, at a loss for words as his face shifts to a deep look, unreadable eyes staring across the shrouded water. "…No, I can't. All I can do is help my daddy to try and make up for it, and then pick up where he left off…when it's my turn."

"My," Nimueh chuckles, a hand rising to her mouth to daintily hide her smirk as her shoulders shake with mirth. "My dear, there must be more you can do. After all, you are one of us."

"H—uh…?" Those dark-brown eyes stare at her, blinking, dumbfounded. She looks back at him, smile still carefully pleasant. "What…What do you mean?"

Nimueh exhales softly through her nose, gets up, and crosses the three steps to his side. Taking him by the shoulders, the High Priestess turns him to face her before kneeling on bended knee to be eye-level with him. Gingerly, one pale hand moves to lightly run long, red nails through his hair, her palm slowly caressing his cheek as it moves down the side of his face, like a mother making sure her child's short attention stays on her, but also to calm them so that the words sink in.

"You have magic, little prince." She whispers with all of the softness of silk and breathless excitement. "You could be the key to our future, our flourishing."

His eyes go so wide that the whites are as plain as day. "I…I have magic…?"

"Yes," The whisper came out with a slight hiss on the s. "It is in your blood, the greatest gift your mother could have given you."

"I…have magic…But—"

"But what, my prince?"

"But…B-Merlin…he said I didn't have it. He still taught me a teeny bit…but I don't have…the gift like he does."

Nimueh chuckles, light, pretty as a bell, true amusement. "Sweetie, Merlin is still young, and learning himself. How can he teach you and know the secrets of an art that takes ages to master, lifetimes?"

His face scrunches, a child's disappointment-mixed skepticism when told St. Nicholas isn't real. "But…Merlin's super-smart…he knows…almost everything."

"He is a boy, Galahad. You need a master to learn from."

"…Like you?"

Nimueh grins with surprised delight, her eyes sparkling. "If you would have me, I would be honored."

He nods with all of the eagerness of a puppy. "Mm-hmm! I wanna have cool, golden eyes like Merlin!"

"I can give you that and much more, sweetheart. All you have to do is listen to me." He nods once, a confident grin. "Close your eyes, imagine an image, but a single image, and become lost within its depths. Only when you have surrendered to it can the magic embrace you."

Galahad closes his eyes, a smile between excitement and content crossing his face.

_An image…an image to get lost in…simple… _

_Suddenly, the large, swallowing, yellow eye of the Great Dragon comes to his mind. And the darkness from within that crescent-pupil swallows him whole. Everything he fears. Darkness, loss, pain, loneliness, all of it bubbles around him, and he whimpers. He needed to escape; he needed to run out of there. So he runs, but they don't leave. He ran forever, he ran until he felt every breath like a knife in his chest._

_Then…light._

_Brilliant, golden, rising around him as it burst before him like a towering inferno. Only it isn't. He realizes. It's water. A golden ocean, so easy to drown in, but it won't hurt him. It's keeping him safe. He's safe. _

Pain explodes in his head, and with a gasping breath, his eyes fly open. He wants to scream, but the sound is stuck in his throat. Instead, his hands fly up to grasp his head…but the pain leaves, almost as if it was never there.

"N…Nimueh…" His voice is strangled and dry.

He feels to hands gripping his shoulders in an iron grip, a breathless voice in his ear. "You did it Galahad. You did it."

He looks down. A thick, glassy mirror of dark water is at his feet. Starring back at him is his reflection.

Starring back at him are golden eyes.

"Magic…"

The world swims before it goes black like the water.

* * *

><p>"…lahad…Gal…Galahad…Galahad, wake UP!"<p>

He screams. There's the shattering of glass, and then someone is pinning him down, the wild beating of his heart drowning out sound until—

"…'s okay…Gal, it's o—"

His brother's cries are cut short, color draining from his face as though someone just wiped it away.

"Merlin, what's the matter?" His father's voice comes from somewhere.

"Gal…your eyes…!"

"Ma—ic…" His voice won't work right.

For the entire world, the blue eyes he'd always thought would always be the safest place to ever be looked completely, utterly terrified and helpless.

Nimueh's voice dances in his head, a ghostly whisper, as his eyes become heavy. _I hope I may borrow your mind again soon, my prince. It was simply too dangerous to speak in person._

And sleep takes him under once again. The distant cries of his father and brother washing away with the sound of the ocean.

* * *

><p>AN: Yeah, Nimueh knew Morgause may not play her part and intervened. Yay, now Gal has magic! But what'll happen with Mama Morgause?

Anyway, hope you enjoyed it! Let me know what you think!


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